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An Adventure with a Bear 92 

A few words about the Egyptians, Ancient and Modern 142 

„ „ Soluble Glass 221 

A Mysterious Adventure 135 

A Touch with the Brigands 19 

A Visit to the Royal Polytechnic Institution 205 

Boiling Springs 224 

Cardinal Wolsey 83 

Christmas Day at the Diggings 200 

Exploits in the Desert 9 

Glastonbury Abbey, with the Story of King Arthur 217 

Gustavus Vasa ." 30 

Jack and Jill 243 

Juvenile Day at the Hall 171 

Manufacture of Ropes 188 

Oranges and Lemons ; or, the Bells of St. Clement's 71 

Passage of the Desert 212 

San Rosalia 196 

Sledging 7 



Something about Boiling Springs 224 

., „ the Chinese 116 

Something more about the Chinese 234 

„ about Lighthouses 97 

„ „ the Old Abbeys and Castles of England 61 

„ „ Ships and Shipping 178 

„ „ the Turkish Provinces 55 

Story of the American Sea Serpent 227 

Story of an Anchorite . 1 

The Boy Bachelor ; or, Something about Cardinal Wolsey 83 

The Two Middies ; or, a Fearful Encounter with a Shark . 259 

The Town Pump : a Story of the Cow with an Iron Tail 34 

The Youthful Nelson 42 

The Old Abbeys and Castles of England 104 

The Queen at Spithead : Review of the Fleet 110 

The Rain ; or, the Child, the Fairy, and the Magic Bird 156 

The Regimental Goat 153 


The Electric Telegraph 169 

The Owl 202 

The Sailor's Grave 5 

The Willow Tree 152 


HOLIDAY FACES ! Aye, they are bright, shining, and 
beautiful as dewdrops glistening in the morning's 
splendour — stars sparkling in a clear midnight sky — flowers 

lit up by the summer's sun. It makes 

the heart of poor old Peter Parley 

;lad when he sees them — whether 

they belong to young or old, to rich 

or to poor, it is one of my chief 

delights. I do assure you, my young 

friends, that a good deal of my 

parleying has to do with Holiday 

Faces. I see them again and 

again, year after year, and they 

make me feel young again j and, 

like the old rustic of the Suffolk 

poet, Bloomfield, I am often ready 


to jump -with joy when I see the cabs and coaches, post- 
chaises and omnibuses, crowded, inside and outside, with 
school children, going home for the Holidays. Old as I am 
growing, I still feel that I belong to the order of light 
hearts and merry looks — to the heraldry of smiling faces — 
and my escutcheon is charged with " nods and becks, and 
wreathed smiles." 

Hurrah, then, for the Holidays, say I ! Be cheerful, 
my young friends — not more for the sake of being merry, 
than for the sake of being serious again at the proper 
time. Unbend the bow and loosen the string, that both 
string and bow may have more force when again brought 
into action ! Make the air ring then, I say, with the 
Holiday Cheer of Merry Christmas time ! Sing, and skip, 
and dance, and play, like " lambkins by the hill side," and 
let love reign in all your hearts, a perpetual sunshine, from 
year to year, and from youth to age, until you are as old as 
your ever sincere 

And Affectionate Friend, 

Wmi of m %\xt\m\k 

AMONG the many celebrated ruins of Abbeys in Ireland, 
is tbat of Foune, or Fowne, in the county of West- 
meath, Leinster. This Abbey is situated on the north-side of 
the hill or rising ground, which interposes between it and 
Lough Larne. It was a Priory of Canons, built by St. 
Fechin, about the year 630. For although the oldest and 
most authentic Irish records were written between the tenth 
and twelfth centuries, yet some of them go back, with some 
consistency, as far as the Christian era; but there is no 
evidence that the Irish had the use of letters before the 
middle of the fifth century, when Christianity and Christian 
literature were introduced by St. Patrick. The new faith 
did not flourish till a century later, when St. Columba 
erected monasteries. The Abbey presents a large pile of 
simple, unadorned masonry. The chapel is still in a toler- 
able state of preservation, so is also the chapel tower. The 
valley in which this Abbey is placed must, in the time of 
its prosperity, have been a delightful retreat. The outline 
is still good, and nothing is wanting but a little more wood 
to render it an attractive spot in modern days. 



The town is said to have been, anciently, a University of 
Literature, and the name signifies in the Irish tongue, " the 
Town of Books :" and the above-mentioned lake (Lough 
Larne) "the Lake of Learning." This town was not only 
the mart of learning, but of devotion — there being in it the 
ruins of no less than three parish churches ; and here lived 

a famous anchorite, of whom Sir Henry Piers — who wrote an 
amusing description of the county of Westmeath — gives the 
following account : — 

" This religious person, in his extremity, maketh a vow 


never to go out of his doors all his life-time, and accordingly 
here he remains pent up all his days; every day he sayeth 
mass in the chapel, which also is part of, nay, almost all his 
dwelling-house — for there are no more houses, but a very 
small castle, wherein a tall man can hardly stretch himself at 
length if he be laid down on the floor, nor is there any passage 
into the castle but through the chapel. He hath servants 
that attend him at his call in an out-house, but none lieth 
within the church but himself. He is said, by the natives — 
who hold him in great veneration for his sanctity — every day 
to dig, or rather scrape — for he useth no other tools but his 
nails — a portion of his grave, being esteemed of so great 
holiness — as if purity and sanctity were entailed on his cell ; 
he is certainly visited by those of the Romish religion who 
aim at being esteemed more devout than the ordinary amongst 

" Every visitant, at his departure, leaveth his offering, 
or as they phrase it, ' devotion/ on his altar j but he relieth 
not on this only for a maintenance, but hath those to bring 
him in the devotions of those whose piety is not so fervent as 
to invite them to do the office in person ; these are called his 
' proctors/ who range all the counties in Ireland to beg for 
him, whom they call the 'holy man in the stone/ Corn, 
geese, turkeys, hens, sheep, money, and whatnot, nothing 
comes amiss, and nowhere do they fail altogether, but some- 
thing is had, insomuch, that if his ' proctors ' deal truthfully, 
nay, if they return him but a tenth part of what is given for 
him, he may doubtless fare as well as any priest of them all. 
The only recreation this poor prisoner is capable of, is, to 
walk on his terrace, built over the cell where he lies, if he 




may be said to walk, who cannot in one time stretch forth 
his legs four times." 

Such, my young friends, is the story of an Anchorite. It 
is well for us that we live in times when such nonsense is not 
tolerated. An attempt was made, some years ago, by a poor 
half-witted creature, called the " Shottisham Angel/' to 
revive this kind of imposture among credulous persons, but 
timely exposure frustrated the attempt. 

Vi]t Sa2flr*B (Mt 

Daek flew the scud along the wave, 
The hooming thunders rolled on high ; 

" All hands aloft, the storm to hrave " — 
At midnight — was the hoats wain's cry. 

On deck sprung every soul apace, 
But one — bereft of human joy — 

"Within a hammock's narrow space 

Lay stretched a " sad, sick sailor boy." 

Once, when the boatswain's pipe would hail, 
The first was he of all the crew 

On deck to spring — to trim the sail — 
To steer — to reef — to furl — to clew. 

Now "fever dire" had seized a form 
"Which nature cast in happiest mould ; 

The bell struck midnight through the storm, 
The last — the death-knell tale is told. 

" Alas !" he cried — and dropped a tear, 
" Before my spirit mounts the skies — 

Are there no friends or messmates near 
To close, with looks of love, my eyes ? " 



All hands aloft — loud blows the wind, 
Surrounding billows loudly roar; 

He gave one sigh, and sank resigned 
To hope, and think, and love no more. 

The morning sun in glory rose, 

The gale was hushed, and still'd the wave ; 
The sea boy found his last repose, 

And in the ocean's breast a grave. 




''///'J /// /' ///>'/)'/ 


SLEDGING is a very pretty pastime in cold weather, and 
in Poland, Russia, Holland, and other northern countries, 
it is the regular mode of travelling during the long frosts that 
annually prevail in those regions. A couple of rein-deer yoked 
to a sledge can travel more than a hundred miles in a day, 
with a load of half-a-ton. 

In fine weather, on a good snowy road, there is something 
delightfully exhilirating in sledge travelling, snugly enveloped 
in furs, whilst 

" The vault is blue, 
Without a cloud, and white without a speck." 

The traveller glides swiftly over the level snow, enlivened by 
the tinkling of a sonorous bell attached to an arch that 
rises off the head of the centre horse ; for sometimes three 
horses abreast are used in sledges, and cheered or soothed, as 
his mood may be, by the wild yet plaintive song of the driver. 
The traveller is laid in the sledge like a child in his cradle. 
He holds the rein or puller, which is fastened to the deer's 
or horse's head, on his right thumb. When the driver is 
ready to start, he shakes the rein, and the animal springs 



forward with great speed. He directs his course by the 
rein and by the voice ; he sings to him as he goes along ; 
speaks kindly to him — and cheers him on his way. He never 
strikes or hurts him, for he loves the animal too much to be 
cruel to him. 

The Laplanders, Russians, Poles, and other nations are 
thus enabled to travel in winter, by night and by day, when 
the whole country far and wide is entirely covered by snow, 
and scarcely a hut or tree is to be seen, and they travel from 
one part of the country to another with great speed. In the 
Royal Palace of Sweden is a portrait of a rein-deer which is 
described as having travelled with despatches eight hundred 
miles in forty-eight hours. 

It was a very pretty thing to see our beloved Queen and 
family "sledging," because it shows that the Queen has 
courage, and a love of amusement ; and should this winter be 
a cold one, Peter Parley hopes to see Her Majesty again in 
her sledge. 

€$$0 in % Jcsai 

THE deserts of Southern Africa are immense and formid- 
able, rarely trod by the foot of civilised man. They 
present features the most wild, and at times, the most sublime 
that can be imagined; but man has a great knack of destroying 
the grand, and blotting out the "wonderful. South Africa, in 
its central parts, abounds in features well calculated to inspire 
grand ideas, and to call forth all the powers of the mind 
in heroic exploits among the wild beasts of the desert. Here 
roam, in all their native freedom, bisons, blesboks, and 
springboks in millions ; and among them prowls the lion, in 
all his fierce dignity of bearing, with his attendant the 
jackall, who follows and precedes his footsteps. The blesbok 
is one of the true antelopes, and is as large as a fallow deer, 
and all its motions and paces are full of grace and elegance ; 
these have also a pecularity of manner (whence their name), 
of jumping up into the air, like so many fleas, when they first 
dart off into rapid motion ; thus they scour the vast plains in 
myriads, and may be seen for miles, as if the whole desert 
was endowed with motion. 

The springboks, which, in equal numbers, frequent the 
same immense plains, make away in every direction over the 




wildest part 01 the country, sometimes with flying bounds 
(beautifully exhibiting the long, snowy white hair, with which 
their backs are adorned), and at others, walking carelessly 
and slowly out of the hunter's way, scarcely deigning to look 
at him. Black bisons also cover the entire length and breadth 
of this wild country, and may be seen in herds, averaging from 
fifty to sixty, wheeling about in endless circles, and perform- 
ing the most extraordinary variety of intricate evolutions 
round the hunter on every side. While he is riding round to 
take a shot at some of the herd in front of him, other herds 
are charging down right and left ; and having described a 

number ot circular movements, they take up positions upon 
the very ground across which the hunter rode only a few 
minutes before. Throughout the greater part of the plains 
frequented by blesboks, numbers of sun-baked hills, or mounds 


of clay, formed by the white ants, occur, the average height 
of which are from three to four feet. These ant-hills are 
generally distant from each other from about one to three 
hundred yards, and are of great service to the hunter, as he 
can conceal himself from observation behind them, when he 
advances to the attack. 

It was amid these scenes that, a few years ago, Gordon 
Gumming luxuriated as a hunter, and noble and not a few, 
are the trophies of this modern Nimrod — as may be seen at the 
Exhibition of his Game, in the Museum, near Hyde Park. 
Overpowered with the sports of the gun and the chase, he 
had laid down for a brief repose behind one of the ant-hills 
already alluded to ; but he had not slept long before he was 
aroused by a strange, multitudinous pattering of feet. On 
raising his head, he saw to his utmost horror, on every side, 
nothing but savage wild dogs, chattering and growling. On 

his right and on his left, stood two lines of these ferocious- 
looking animals, cocking their ears and stretching their necks 

B 2 

* *■ 



to hare a look at him ; while two large apes, with which 
there were at the least forty more, kept clashing backwards 
and forwards within a few yards of him, chattering and 
growling with the most extraordinary volubility. He expected 
no other fate than to be instantly torn to pieces and consumed; 
his blood seemed to run cold, and his hair bristled on his head. 
However, he had presence of mind to consider that the human 
voice and a determined bearing might overawe them ; and, 
accordingly, springing to his feet, he stepped on one of the 
ant-hills, and drawing himself to his full height, he waved his 
coarse blanket with both hands, at the same time addressing 
the assembly in a loud and solemn manner. This had the 
desired effect : the wild dogs removed to a more respectful 
distance, barking at him the while. Upon this, he snatched 
up his rifle and began loading, but before this was accom- 
plished, the entire troops had pushed away, and did not 

" The next night/' this enterprising traveller says, " was a 
memorable one, as being the first on which he had the satis- 
faction of hearing the majestic thunder of the lion's roar." 
There was no one near to tell him that this was the roar of a 
lion ; but he seemed to know by instinct that it could be 
nothing else. This roar consists, at times, of a low, deep 
moaning, repeated five or six times, ending in faintly audible 
sighs; at other times, he startles the forest with loud, deep- 
toned, solemn roars, repeated five or six times, in quick 
succession, each increasing in loudness, to the third or fourth, 
when his voice dies away in five or six low, muffled sounds, 
-very much resembling distant thunder. At times, a troop 
may be heard roaring in concert, one assuming the lead, and 



two, three, or four more regularly taking up their parts, like 
persons singing a catch ; but on no occasion are their voices 
heard to such perfection as when two or three strange troops 
of lions approach a fountain to drink at the same time. 
When this occurs every member of each troop sounds a bold 


roar of defiance at the opposite parties ; and when one roars 
all roar together, and each seems to vie with his comrades in 
the intensity and power of his voice. As a general rule, lions 
roar during the night ; but in distant and secluded situations, 
they may be heard roaring as late as nine o'clock in the 
morning. It often happens that, when two male lions meet 
at a fountain, a terrific combat ensues, which not unfrequently 
ends in the death of one of them. 

The habits of the lion are strictly nocturnal. During the 
day, he lies concealed beneath the shade of some low, bushy 
tree, or wide- spreading bush, either in the level forest or on 
the mountain side. He is also partial to lofty reeds, or fields 


of long, rank, yellow grass. From these haunts he sallies 
forth when the sun goes down, and commences his nightly 
prowl. When he is successful in his beat and has secured 
his prey, he does not roar much that night, unless some rash 
intruders approach him, when the case will be very dif- 

Lions are most active and daring during dark and stormy 
nights. Mr. Cumming noticed a fact with regard to their 
hour of drinking, which is worthy of record. They seem 
unwilling to visit the fountain during good moonlight. Thus, 
when the moon rose early, lions deferred their hour of water- 
ing until late in the morning ; and when the moon rose late, 
they drank at a very early hour in the night. When a thirsty 
lion comes to the water, he stretches out his massive arms, 
lies down on his breast to drink, and makes a loud, lapping 
noise in drinking, not to be mistaken ; he continues lapping 
up the water a long while, and four or five times during the 
process he pauses for half a minute, as if to take breath. 
One thing conspicuous about them is their eyes, which, in a 
dark night, glow like two balls of fire. 

Having determined upon a lion hunt, Captain Cumming, 
with a few riders, dashed on to the immense plain. As he 
proceeded, thousands upon thousands of blesboks darkened 
the ground. " After a ride of some miles, the lion's roar was 
heard, and we soon discovered a dead wild bull, newly killed 
by a lion, and half eaten. His large and striking foot-prints 
were deeply marked in the sand. We felt convinced the lion 
was somewhere near us, but before we could track him out, 
the night came on, and the most furious thunder-storm I ever 
knew. The most vivid flashes of lightning followed one 


another in quick succession, accompanied by terrific peals of 
thunder, and the sky was black as pitch. The whole plain 
was soon a sheet of, water. About midnight, however, 
we heard the lion roar, about a mile off. We then rose, 
and saddled our horses. We rode forward towards the lion's 
feasting-place. As the light broke upon us, we slackened our 
pace, and rode slowly up the middle of the vast level plain 
towards the carcase of the wild beast, with large herds of 
springbok, blesbok, and quaggas on every side. Suddenly I 
observed a number of vultures seated on the plain, about 
a quarter of a mile a-head of us, and close behind them stood 
a huge lioness, eating a blesbok she had just killed. She was 
assisted in her repast by about a dozen jackals, which were 
feasting along with her in the most friendly and confidential 
manner. Directing my followers' attention to the spot, I 
remarked, ' I see the lion V to which they replied, c Whar ! 
whar ! yah, Almagty, dat is he !' — and instantly wheeling 
about their horses, they were about to fly. At the same 
moment the lioness moved off at a rapid pace. I was 
determined to have a shot at her. The first move was to 
bring her to bay, and not a second was to be lost. Spurring 
my good and lively steed, and shouting to my men to follow, 
I flew across the plain, and soon gained upon her. This was 
to me," says the bold hunter, " a joyful moment, and I at 
once made up my mind that she or I should die. 

"The lioness was a full-grown beast, and the bare and 
level nature of the plain added to her imposing appearance. 
Finding that I gained upon her, she reduced her pace from a 
canter to a trot, carrying her tail slackened behind her, and 
slewed a little to one side. I shouted loud to her to halt, as 



I wished to speak with her; upon which she suddenly pulled 
up, and got upon her haunches like a dog, with her back 
towards me, not even deigning to look round. She then 
appeared to say to herself, ' Does that fellow know who he's 

r' -%3?^ 


after ?' Having thus sat for half a minute, as if involved in 
thought, she sprang to her feet, and facing about, stood 
looking at me for a few seconds, moving her tail slowly from 
side to side, showing her teeth and growling fiercely. She 
next made a short run forward, making a loud rumbling 
noise like thunder. This she did to intimidate me, and to 
show her ' monkey ' was up. My Hottentots now came on, 
and we all three dismounted, and drawing our rifles from our 
holsters, we looked to see if the powder was up to the nipples, 
and put on our caps. While this was doing, the lioness sat 
up, and showed evident signs of uneasiness. She looked first 
at us, and then behind her, as if to see if the coast was clear ; 
after which she made a short run towards us, uttering her 
deep-drawn, murderous growl. Having secured the three 
horses to one another by the reins, we led them on, as if we 
intended to pass her, in the hope of obtaining a broadside. 
My men, as yet, had been steady, but they were in a precious 
' stew/ their faces having assumed a ghastly paleness, and I 
had a painful feeling that I could place no reliance on them. 
f* ' Now then for it — neck or nothing ! she is within sixty 
yards of us, and she keeps advancing/ We turned the 
horses' tails to her. I knelt on one side, and taking a steady 
aim at her breast, let fly. The ball cracked loudly on her 
tawny hide, and crippled her in the shoulder ; upon which 
she charged with an appalling roar, and, in the twinkling of 
an eye, she was in the midst of us. She sprung upon Coles- 
berg, one of my men, and fearfully lacerated his ribs and 
haunches with her horrid teeth and claws ; the worst wound 
was on the haunch, and was most hideous. I was very cool 
and steady, and did not feel in the least degree nervous, 


having, fortunately, great confidence in my own shooting ; 
and when the lioness sprang upon my man, I stood out from 
the horses, ready with my second barrel for the first chance 
she should give me of a clear shot. This she quickly did, 
for seemingly, satisfied with the revenge she had now taken, 
she quitted Colesberg, and slewing her tail to one side, trotted 
sulkily past within a few paces of me. Taking one step to 
the left, I pitched my rifle to my shoulder, and, in another 
second, the lioness lay stretched upon the plain a lifeless 

". We now skinned the lioness, and cut off her head ; and, 
having placed our trophies on our horses, we made for the 
camp. Before we had proceeded a hundred yards from the 
carcass, upwards of sixty vultures, whom the lioness had often 
fed, were feasting on her remains. We led poor Colesberg 
slowly home, where, having washed his wounds and carefully 
stitched them together, I ordered the cold water cure to be 
adopted. Under this treatment the wounds rapidly healed, 
and he soon recovered. When the shades of evening set in, 
terror seemed to have taken possession of the minds of my 
followers ; and they swore that the mate of the lioness, on 
finding her bones, would follow in our spoer, and revenge her 
death. Under these circumstances, they refused to remain 
about the waggons or in the tent after the sun went down ; 
and having cut down the rafters and cupboards of the house 
for fuel, they kindled a large fire in the kitchen, where they 
took up their quarters for the night." 

% Cmtclj foftjj % $ripfos. 

T is now several 
author of this 

years ago since the 
" little episode in his 
life" was travelling in Spain. " I was/' 
says he, " on the road between Madrid 
and Bayonne, where the road was 
rugged, the mountains high, the rivers 
loose, and the people poor. There were 
a good many passengers in the rumbling old coach — six 
within, and ten or twelve on the outside, behind-side, and 
fore-side of the vehicle. My companions were — a French 
opera-singer ; an old clergyman, who had returned from 
Rome through Spain, after having embraced the Catholic 
faith; a Trench clown, named Moliere, who was, in Paris, said 
to be equal to one Joe Grimaldi (of facetious memory) ; an 
old lady, with her lap-dog and a monkey in a box, attended 
by her servant, companion, and myself; so that the carriage 
was almost as infinite in variety as Noah's Ark, only on a 
smaller scale. 

" The other passengers I could tell but little of. Some, 
however, were Frenchmen, and others either Italian or 
Spanish ; but there was one who struck my attention by the 


rotundity of his person, who seemed to have been formed 
much upon the principle of apple- dumplings or a humming- 
top. This gentleman, broad, round, thick, and lumpy, was 
a taciturn Dutchman. 

" Now, in the part of Spain to which I have alluded, there 
is a set of people (Knights of the Moor, as Falstaff calls 
them), who make the mercurial art of robbery a profession — 
who pass for the most cavalleros (gentleman-like) men. 
They are the padrones of old Castille. These brigands had, 
in the most polite manner imaginable, attacked several 
pleasure and business parties, with great benefit to them- 
selves and discomfiture to their victims. The government, 
which in these countries, do everything, but nothing well, 
had our coach escorted by cavalry, as far as Baitroget ; also 
certain stages between Arendo and Burgos. But when we 
got into one of the most cut-throat looking places, about 
three leagues from Orendo, at the cut-throat time in Sep- 
tember of about eight in the evening, when the gloaming 
was fully set, and the moon had risen with a sickly, com- 
sumptive aspect, our ' John,' or rather the head postillion was 
suddenly stopped short; a chain was immediately entangled 
in the wheel, the traces were cut, and both the postillions 
were pulled off their horses and thrown on the ground by a 
couple of surly, well-dressed brigands ; while four others, 
two on each side, came to the carriage, and called upon the 
conductor and the people in the char-a-banc, as well as those 
in the coach, and those above, to come down and be robbed 
in a quiet way. One of the brigands had a hand-lantern, 
which he thrust into the " interior" of our vehicle. The 
old lady with her lap-dog gave a most piercing shriek, as did 


her waiting- woman, while the dog barked so furiously, that 
the brigand seemed excessively savage, and gave the yelping 
our such a blow with the lantern, that it knocked the light 
out, aud we were in a moderate degree of darkness. In a 
few moments, however, we felt the rough hands of two of the 
brigands, who pulled us out of the coach, and told us to lay 
down on our faces ; the French opera-dancer appealed to 
their feelings as gentlemen, not to injure female delicacy, 
and to preserve the old lady, her waiting- woman, and herself 
from any unnecessary violence. The clown made a sudden 
summersault over the heads of the brigands, which astonished 
them to such a degree, that they thought they had come 
in contact with the Prince of Evil himself; while the Dutch- 
man from the roof laid groaning and trembling all over like 
a jelly, and imploring for mercy. The other travellers were 
put hors de combat without ceremony, and the whole group 
presented as pretty a picture of still life as can well be 

" The driver and postillions had their hands bound behind 
with strong cords ; these necessary precautions were soon 
exercised on us. The clown's hands were tied — and so were 
his legs ; and in addition to tying the hands of the old lady 
and her maid, a couple of gags were obliged to be put into 
their mouths to prevent their ' sweet voices' from disturbing 
the harmony of the scene. The captain of the band, a fine 
handsome fellow, with beard enough to stuff a sofa, called 
upon us, in very bad Castillian, to declare what money we 
had, and where it was — adding, that if we did not tell the 
truth, we should be cut-throated or burned. He interrogated 
us with all the acuteness of Mr. Pegler, (one of the best 


detectives, and also one of the best of men), frequently changing 
his tone and accent. * Who are you V ' Whence do you 
come ?' ' Where are you going V were questions put to us, 
and if we had the misfortune to belong to any place near the 
haunts of the brigands, or had happened to knoAV the person 
of any of them, we should have been inevitably assassinated. 
In fact, a poor postillion was so served only three months 
before by these very identical brigands, because he happened 
to be acquainted with one of them. 

" They inquired of us whether we were Englishmen, or 
Americans, for if we had been the former, we should have 
been completely stripped. The Spanish lower order of people 
imagine that the clothes of the English and Americans are 
stitched with gold thread. The lady with the lap-dog, and 
her maid, unwittingly said they were English, and I, scorning 
to tell a lie, even in such a case, said that I was from Middle- 
sex, which the chief brigand, whose geography was something 
like that of the pope, seemed to think an outlandish place, 
somewhere in the extreme corner of the earth. All these 
necessary preliminaries being gone through, the picturesque 
gentlemen began plundering the coach, throwing down and 
breaking, or ripping open with their long knives, all the boxes, 
trunks, bags, and packages. Knowing that they could not 
get at mine without a great deal of trouble, I looked up and 
told them that I would open my trunk and give them all the 
money it contained, if they would unbind my hands, for they 
had drawn the cord so tight that I was in great pain. They 
consented, and brought my trunk to me. The money they 
found in it did not satisfy them. They left me in the hands 
of one of their band, a young man not more than twenty 



years of age, who continued to search my trunk, while an 
older and fiercer brigand watched my looks with his carbine 
levelled at me. The young man, although he made use of 
the coarsest oaths and other expressions, which beautifully 
illustrates the fact, that every variety of human speech can 
be adapted to blaspheme the " good God who made us," was 
not so savage as the rest, and this was evidently his first 
expedition. He carried neither carbine nor sword, and the 
only weapon he had Avas a Catalonian knife stuck in his belt. 
Everything he saw in my trunk caused him surprise and 
wonder. He asked me to tell him the age of each. On 
finding some rosaries, he exclaimed — ' Ah, you are a priest V 
I told him no, but had bought the rosaries at a fair at Madrid 
as curiosities. He, however, with great devotion kissed the 
crosses suspended to them with other emblems, but finding 
they were of silver, he broke the stones, letting them all fall 
to the ground. I He carefully picked them up, and again 
kissed each bead and emblem, but at the same time renewed 
his oaths at his awkwardness. He secured these, and every- 
thing else he thought valuable, between his shirt and his 
skin, but my clothes and linen he put into a large sack, which 
appeared to be the common receptacle. I had also some 
small knives and daggers. He asked what I did with them. 
T told him they had been sold to me as having been worn by 
the Manolas of Spain under their garters. At this he laughed, 
and throwing two of them to the ground to me, he put the 
rest into his private magazine. 

" I hoped to make something of my grand brigand, but 
while I was talking to him the captain came up suddenly, 
and struck me with violence on the back of the neck with 


the butt-end of his carbine, saying, in a furious tone, ' You 
are looking in his face that you might be able to recognise 
him !' He then seized me by the right arm, while another 
took my left, and they again bound them behind my back. 
In my bad Spanish, I assured them I was a foreigner from 
the remote county of Middlesex ; but they would not have 
cared had I been Joseph Hume himself, and threw me down 
like a sheep tied fast together ready for the slaughter, upon 
the body of the Hollander, who roared out loudly, and shook 
most convulsively all over, imploring the brigands not to kill 
him, for that he had several bills to take up on the 10th prox- 
imo at Amsterdam ; beside which he had a wife, six children, 
and two sisters-in-law dependent upon him for support, and 
an aged mother and two children of a deceased brother. One 
of the brigands laughed at hearing all this, although he could 
not understand it in High-Dutch ; but I, who knew a little 
of the language, ventured to translate it for him, which made 
the chief brigand laugh ten times more. Taking one of the 
crucifixes found on me he held it before his eyes, and told 
him to be at once a Catholic, and he would spare his life. 
' Kiss the cross/ he said ' or I will cut your throat!' This 
was a plain and simple proposition, and the method of its so- 
lution freely given. However, much to the honour and glory 
of the Dutchman, he resolutely refused to do any such thing, 
and told the brigand that ' he might kill him if he liked, and 
that God would take care of all those dependent upon him ; ' 
and when the cross was again presented to his lips, the burly 
Dutchman turned himself right over on his side, and the 
ground on which he lay being upon a slight declivity, he be- 
gan to roll, and his descent being accelerated as he moved 


downwards, he in a few seconds obtained such a velocity, as 
to roll down the incline with a rapidity most wonderful — the 
brigands pausing in their work at so strange a sight, and 
laughing immoderately. 

"The next work of our friends was upon the French opera- 
dancer, and the old lady and her female companion, who had 
all been passed at the first movement, and who lay groaning, 
weeping, sobbing, and rolling about in the utmost trepidation. 
The dancing lady had fainted two or three times, and finding 
no one to attend upon her, had corne to again of her own 
accord, till at last, upon one of the brigands approaching her, 
she went off in apparently a dead swoon. But these kind o? 
things were nothing in the eyes of the bravos, who proceeded 
to strip her of her outward silk, and to rifle her of all her 
secret treasures, which had been stowed away in various parts 
of her inner dress. These consisted of various sums of money, 
stitched amid wadding and padding, trinkets, love-tokens, 
charms, bank-notes, &c. ; but the brigands were particularly 
amazed when, upon turning madam over, they found a long, 
hard roll behind the lady, which was, ostensibly, a padding- 
machine made to keep the dress from falling down, and for 
making it to display itself with grace and dignity rearwards ; 
this was manufactured entirely of Napoleons and French 
bank-notes, the former making up the more substantial part 
of the article alluded to, and the latter lining the outstanding 
portion. The fun and frolic of the brigands at this discovery 
were immense; they joked, they leaped, they danced, they 
swore, and committed many wild pranks in the joy of their 
discovery, and falling upon the old maid and her waiting- 
woman in the same way, they proceeded to unroll them both, 



as carefully as Professor Owen would an Egyptian mummy, 
but not finding the same treasures, the-y cursed and swore in 
the most vociferous manner, giving the old lady many a good 
cuff, and behaving to her companion with the same rough 
ceremony. At this time others of the brigands were 
knocking the carriage to pieces, and having fallen upon the 
box containing the monkey, with a blow demolished its upper 
postern, and in a moment — in less than the twinkling of an 
eye —out popped the imprisoned monkey, who, immediately 
leaping on to the shoulder of the nearest brigand, took hold 
of him by the ear, which it bit in two, and flying from his 
shoulder to the next, made a laceration of the second brigand's 
nose, who, finding himself thus suddenly attacked by what 
"was not very discernable in the moon-light, threw himself 
down, roaring out his ' Aves/ thinking that an imp of the 
Prince of Darkness was suddenly upon him. In vain did the 
other brigands make slashes and stabs at the monkey, who 
ran upon the shoulders of the next one, between the legs of 
another, up the back of a third, down the breast of a fourth, 
and kept the whole in perpetual alarm, till at last the poor 
wretch, having had one or two unlucky knocks, made his escape 
to some distance, where he sat chattering defiance, and picking 
up some stones, threatened to throw them at his pursuers. 

" The trunks, boxes, bales, and packages, having by this 
time been thoroughly ransacked, the next object of the 
brigands was to burn the carnage, in the hope of obtaining, 
by this means, all the concealed treasures it contained in 
its various hiding places which are so difficult to find out. 
Accordingly, straw, stubble, and dried boughs were procured, 
and a quantity being placed underneath the old vehicle, it was 



very soon under the horrifying process, and the flames rose 
up bravely, throwing a broad red light on the surrounding 
scenery, and the ungagged ladies uttered many loud screams 
and interjections. The brigands set themselves quietly down 
by the fire, and watched the progress of the flames upon each 
part of the burning carriage, having the satisfaction to see 
several pieces of gold, in the shape of Napoleons, fly out as 
the parts separated, which they snatched eagerly from the fire 
with their daggers, and often burnt their fingers to secure. 
Just as the blaze was at its proudest height, and the brigands 
were at the full point of triumph, a tremendous discharge of 
musketry was heard close behind, and three of the robbers 
fell wounded. The others sprang up, levelled their carbines, 
and fired in the direction of the noise. Another rapid but 
irregular discharge, then an immediate onslaught, for, by the 
light of the moon which then broke out rather brightly, was 
seen coming onwards some twenty armed cavaliers, who 
rushed upon the brigands, sword in one hand and pistol in 
the other, and immediately a most furious combat between 
the two parties took place. The brigands fought desperately, 
and their assailants bravely. The three women screamed 
lustily. I looked on quietly, as did the Dutchman who had 
rolled to the bottom of the slope. In less than half-an-hour, 
five of the brigands had been shot down, the rest had 
dispersed ; in the meantime, the carriage had been carefully 
consumed, and the cavaliers stood victors over five dead 
brigands, eight bound men, and three bound women. Of 
course the bound were soon unbound, and then we discovered 
to whom we had been indebted for our delivery. 

" And this was to no less a person than our clown. He had 

c % 



been bound hand and foot at the first, but having, by virtue 
of his profession, been enabled to walk on his back without 
any aid from his legs, he had shuffled or wriggled himself off, 
in the confusion, to a considerable distance without being ob- 
served, and when sufficiently away from the daggers of his 
enemies, managed to get clear of his bandages, and run- 
ning off in the direction we had left, had the good luck to 
come up with our escort, which had halted at a kind of half- 
way-house below us and the nearest town, for the purpose of 
watering their horses and come-ing themselves; and being 

A TOUCH WITH THE BRIGANDS. 29 overtaken with the delectable comforts of the hcs- 
tlery, had stayed much longer than their commission gave 
them licence to do. Here our clown found them, and thev 
immediately gave chase and came up in the ' nick of time ' 

"As soon as the whole of our party could be collected 
together, we were put one behind each of the cavaliers, and 
picking up our scattered matters, and robbing the dead bodies 
of the fallen brigands of that which belonged to us, we all 
proceeded back to the small village of Orguillas, about half a 
league from where we had been stopped, and here we were all 
shown into the c venta' of the village, which consisted of little 
more than a kitchen with four bare walls, where we laid down, 
like so many pigs, among the straw till the morning, when 
we were taken before the Alcade, who gravely heard our depo- 
sitions, took them down, examined our cavaliers, and told us 
for our. especial benefit that we must find our way back to 
Madrid as we could. So getting away from the village, and 
plenty of straw in, then we set off as quickly as bad horses, 
bad drivers, and bad roads would allow us, and reached the 
chief city of Spain in the most deplorable plight imaginable. 
So ended my acquaintance with Spanish Brigands." 

§uhhm Bun. 

THERE is nothing which delights me more, my young 
friends, than to tell you tales of the Great and Good ; 
and among many, who are truly great and good in the pages 
of history, few stand more pleasingly prominent than Gus- 
tavus I., King of Sweden. He was one of those great men 
whom nature so seldom produces, and who appears to have 
bean endowed by her with every quality becoming a sove- 
reign. His handsome countenance and noble bearing pre- 
possessed all persons in his favour ; his artless eloquence was 
irresistible ; his conceptions were bold, and his indomitable 
spirit brought them to a happy issue. He was intrepid and 
yet prudent, full of courtesy in a rude age, and as virtuous as 
the leader of a party can be. 

When the tyrant, Christian II. of Denmark, sought to 
make himself master of the throne of Sweden, Gustavus 
resolved to save his country from the oppressor; but the 
execution of his plans was interrupted, as Christian seized 
his person and kept him prisoner at Copenhagen, as a 
hostage, with five other heroic Swedes. When at last, in 
1519, he heard of the success of Christian, who had nearly 
completed the subjugation of Sweden, he resolved, although 



still immured in a loathsome dungeon, to deliver his country. 
Gustavus escaped to Lubeck, but soon found that the Danes 
were after him, which obliged him to assume the habit and 
manners of a peasant. In this disguise he travelled on foot 
among the plains and mountains as a fugitive, and frequently- 
walked fifty miles in a day, from place to place, to elude his 

pursuers. When he became familiar with his disguise, and 
the rude language of the peasantry, he became very bold. 
He passed several times through the Danish army; when 
that army was looking out for him, by its scouts, in every 
direction, he passed through the midst of it in a waggon 
of hay, and proceeded to an old family castle at Sudermania, 


He dispatched letters to his friends in the hope of arousing 
them to the recovery of their liberties; but, meeting with 
little success among the great, he next tried the peasantry. 
He visited their villages by night, harangued them at their 
festive assemblies, but without effect — as they uniformly told 
him it was in vain for them to attempt to better their con- 
dition, for peasants they were and peasants they must 

Gustavus next determined to try the miners of Delacarlia. 
He penetrated the mountains of that remote province, and 
was obliged, for a scanty subsistence, to enter himself as a 
common labourer at a mine. Here he worked within the 
dark caverns of the earth ; but the fineness of his linen soon 
led some of his fellow labourers to suspect that he was more 
than what he seemed. 

By the advice of a friend, at whose house he concealed 
himself, Gustavus repaired to Mira, where an annual feast of 
the peasantry was held. There, as his last resource, lie 
displayed with so much mature eloquence and energy the 
miseries of his country and the tyranny of Christian, that the 
assembly instantly determined to take up arms and adopt 
him as their leader. While their hearts were overflowing 
with an ardent patriotism, Gustavus led them against the 
governor's Castle, which they stormed, and took or destroyed 
the whole garrison. Success increased his forces; multitudes 
were eager to enMst under the banner of the conquering hero, 
Gustavus. At the head of his little army, he overran the 
neighbouring provinces — defeated the Archbishop of Upsala, 
and advanced to Stockholm. Christian, who had in vain 
attempted to stop the progress of Gustavus, by the threat of 


massacreing his mother and sisters, at length put the dread- 
ful menace into execution. This cruel deed only animated 
Gustavus to a bloody revenge, and warmed more fiercely the 
blood of his devoted followers. 

Gustavus now went forward only to triumph, and, having 
overcome all opposition, he assembled the states of Sweden 
at Wadstena, where he received the title of Administrator of 
the Kingdom, and in 1523 they proclaimed him King. He 
then set himself zealously to work in the reformation of the 
abuses both of Church and State. The Lutheran religion 
began to gain ground ; the Scriptures were preached ; the 
lazy drones of the church were shorn of their wealth, and 
compelled to do their duty ; and, while the Danes were com- 
pletely expelled from Sweden, Gustavus conquered all the 
internal treacherous enemies of Freedom. Although Sweden 
was a " limited monarchy," so great a faith had the people 
in the justice and love of freedom which Gustavus possessed, 
that they granted him almost unlimited powers, and this 
power he never used in the least, but for the good of his 
country. He perfected the legislation, softened manners, 
encouraged industry and learning, and extended commerce. 
After a glorious reign of thirty-seven years, he died in 1560, 
at the age of seventy, leaving behind him a character, which 
the brave boys of England may love and venerate. 

%\t Cofott |Jimf. 


NOON by the Town Clock ; noon, by the shadow of the 
blessed sun on the dial face, on the face of the Town 
Pump. High, hot, scorching, melting, smelting noon. Noon, 
by the thermometer at eighty-two degrees ; noon, by the 
whirr of the dragon-fly,* and the quivering haze over the mea- 
dow ; noon, by heat without and heat within, and by every 
melting moment. Come, then, my younkers, fresh from 
school, where you have been turning over dictionaries and 
spelling, with sweaty fingers — come and take another lesson. 
Come and shake hands with the Town Pump ! 

How do you do, my young gentlemen ? Take hold of my 
iron hand. Welcome to you all ; I am not above shaking 
hands with the meanest of you, although I am a public cha- 
racter. Some people have dignified me with the name of 
Town Treasurer ; and not an improper title either, as I am 
the guardian of the best treasure the Town has : whoever has 
a draught upon me will be sure to get it honoured, which can- 
not be said of every Treasurer. The Overseers of the Town 
ought to make me their Chairman, since I have the best in- 

* The dragon-fly rests at noontide, and flics most actively towards sundown. 



terests of the Town's people at heart. I am at the head of 
the Fire Department, and one of the Physicians of the Board 
of Health. I ought to be dubbed High Constable also, as I 

am the best Justice of the Peace ; for whosoever taketh my 
cool advice will seldom fall into black eyes or bloody noses : 
and, in this my magisterial capacity, I think myself as useful 
as a dozen policemen at least. To speak within bounds, I am 


the chief person in the Municipality ; a Mayor in my own 
right ; and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my 
brother officers, by the cool, steady, downright-and-upright 
motion of my arm in the cause of sobriety and virtue, and 
by the copious and impartial discharge of my duty. Summer 
and winter few seek my aid in vain ; for all day long I am 
sure to be found at my post, ready to welcome all comers 
with a pure and delightful glass, sparkling like the diamond, 
or the light of gladness in a good man's eye. 

Let me be the Cup-bearer to the State; for I ought to be, 
by virtue of the iron goblet chained round my waist, and I 
can sing, with swanging jingle — 

" Let's quaff the goblet full and bright, 
And see it in the soul's best light ! — " 

and be a water- Anacreon. I am the wisdom that crieth out 
in the streets, ' ' Will no man regard me ? " Yes ; I am sure 
some will. Here is the aqua vita, the pure blood of the 
earth, the distilled juices of heaven. Walk up, gentlemen 
and children ! walk up ! Here is the true elixir of life, the 
primwn mobile of existence — the spring of springiness in the 
joints — the fountain of Diana herself — chaste, pure, and holy ! 
Come and taste the unadulterated ale of Father Adam! Here 
you can have it pure, or mixed with sunshine, or bubbling 
with cheerful looks — all without stint — by the hogshead or 
single glass ; and all for love, and nothing to pay ! The only 
untaxed article in the kingdom; think of that! Walk up! 
walk up! friends and neighbours, and help yourselves. 

It would be a pity if this outcry should draw no customers. 
Here they come, scores of them. A hot day, gentlemen ! 


Quaff, and away again ! You, my friend, will need another 
cupfull to wash the dust off your mustaches — the new 
English invention. I see you have been inhaling the dust of 
a cotton-mill, and this will wash it all down, not leaving one 
single particle sticking to the palate, as the "jolly fat ale" 
does. Come on you, also, Mr. Traveller ; you have walked 
half a score miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed 
by the taverns and stopped at the running brooks and well- 
curbs ; otherwise, betwixt heat without and fire within, you 
would have been burnt to a cinder, or melted like a lump of 
butter in a frying-pan. Drink, friend, and be thankful, and 
make room for that other fellow who seeks my aid to quench 
the fever of last night's potations at the " Pig and Whistle." 
Welcome, most rubicund sir, with your rosy gills, round 
paunch, and pimpled nose; I am very glad to see you here, 
sir ! You and I have been great strangers hitherto ; nor, to 
confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer inti- 
macy, till the fumes of your breath become a little less potent. 
Mercy on you, man, the water absolutely hisses down your 
red-hot gullet, and is converted quite to steam in the minia- 
ture " tophet" which you mistake for a stomach. Fill again, 
and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, in 
cellar, tavern, gin palace, or dram-shop, spend the price of 
your children's food for a swig half so delicious ? Now, for 
the first time for a long while, you know the flavour of cold 
water. Good bye ! and remember, whenever you are thirsty, 
that I keep a constant supply at the old stand. Who next? 
O, my little friend, just let loose from school; you would 
clear your throat with a sup of the pure and lovely ? Take 
it, and may your heart and throat be never scorched by a 


fiercer thirst than now. There, my dear child, put down the 
cup, and yield your place to this good-looking gentleman, 
with a countenance fair and ruddy, and cheerful as the sun 
in May. It is Stephen Grovely, a friend to water, and to 
peace, and to vegetable food, and a good friend beside. He 
takes a sup as if he could make a supper of it, and sleep like 
moonshine on the placid deep. Who is that coming by, 
with a sneer and a laugh at Mr. Grovely ? He is an oldish 
kind of gentleman, and treads very lightly on the stones, 
saving his poor old toes with a stick, and stopping for breath 
every minute or so. How he pants and wheezes, and what 
strange winces and contortions are on his face at every 
movement ! How do you find yourself this morning, sir ? 
I hope you had a comfortable night — no nightmares, groan- 
ings, fearful dreams, or kickings about in your sleep. " You be 
hanged ! " says the old man. a Thank you, sir, for your good 
wishes/' I only say : — Go and draw one cork, tip the decanter 
pour out the ' rosy red/ the ' golden saffron/ the ' purple 
blue;' but, when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, 
don't say it is the Town Pump." If gentlemen love the 
pleasant titilation of the gout, and wont take advice, 'tis all 
one to the Town Pump. Ah, ah ! Old Lion, Peter Parley's 
old dog, sixteen years old this very day ! Come and cele- 
brate your nativity. Well done, old boy, with your two fore- 
legs on the cistern, and your hind-legs erect ; loll out your 
red tongue, while I pump you a draught. Well may you 
wag your old tail as thanks, and walk away satisfied, and, 
old as you are, gambol about refreshed. Lion, Lion ! your 
worship never had the gout, so do not bark at that poor old 
gentleman who hobbles by you, looking so sour and woefuL 


Are you all satisfied ? then wipe your mouths, my good 
friends, and be thankful ; and while the spout has a moment's 
leisure, I will delight the town with a few historical reminis- 
cences. In far antiquity, beneath the darksome shadow of 
venerable boughs a spring bubbled out of the leaf- strewn 
earth, on the very spot where you now behold me on the 
sunny pavement. The water was bright and clear, and seemed 
as precious as liquid diamonds. Amid the grove — for it was 
a sacred one — Druid -seers celebrated their mystic rites, and, 
with the pure, undulterated stream, allayed the fiery thirst of 
feverish lips, and cured diseases. Here they assembled in high 
delight at Christmas time, and while snow covered all the earth, 
was kept open by their prayers the then only bubbling spring. 
But the Druids passed away, and in their place, ages after, 
were seen, yet still in the same white robes, holy priests of 
Christ, sanctifying the sacred spot. The spring bubbled as 
before : but now it had the power to heal — pilgrims flocked to 
it from all parts — the pious St. Columb had sanctified it. It 
worked miracles on the diseased. The halt, the maimed, the 
sick came to it and were healed. Free rose the spring ; but 
it was no longer a free offering to the poor, the sick, and the 
wretched. A price was set upon it. Those that thirsted for 
the water had to pay before they got any ; — as the pay was 
increased the miracles were more wonderful, till at last, over 
the once free and natural spring a stupendous building arose, 
with its flying buttresses high in air ; its spandrils within, 
and their corbels capped with the faces of the condemned ; 
its lofty pinnacle studded with angels, and every coign of 
vantage speaking the mysteries of a faith which was obliterated 
by its grotesque ornaments ; yet, age after age, the miraculous 


waters flowed. At last, the sacred fane decayed, and holy 
men were no more seen ; broken pillars and scattered mould- 
ings bestrewed the place ; and the grass, and the rank plants 
of summer, and the briar, and the burdock, and the tansy 
were the only guardians of the spot ; yet, still the spring 
bubbled forth, and threw its bright gems of brilliance to the 
light of heaven ; and solitary men would come and moralise 
over its site, with tears as deep as its own gushings. At last 
the fountain was broken up; the ruins of the old abbey were 
cleared away; place was given to the levelling hand of time ; 
a hostlery arose near to the place whereon the fountain stood, 
a part of which occupied the very spot. Still, however, the 
spring bubbled forth by fits and starts, — its waters sometimes 
clear, sometimes turbid. It was turned into a tank or pool ; 
and while horses slackened their thirst, their masters in- 
creased theirs by the strong waters of the inn ; and there were 
carousals, and debaucheries, and strifes, and murders upon 
a place which had once been considered holy. Fire came 
during an intoxicating season — the season when peace on 
earth and good- will towards man was proclaimed. The host- 
lery was burnt down — the pure spring was smothered — and 
its very site, after a lapse of years, forgotten. At last foun- 
dations were dug — a new town sprang up over the old — a 
church and market-house took the place of the old abbey — 
and a Temperance Hotel that of the Inn. The old spring 
bubbled up again, in delight, at the improved prospect. But 
it now lay on the earth, yet higher on Sabbath-days. When- 
ever a baby was to be baptised, the sexton came and filled his 
basin, and placed it on the font in the baptistry of the 
church : and hither, too, came the pious deacon of the chapel, 


with his rude basin of delf, for the same holy purpose. Thus, 
one generation after another was consecrated to heaven by 
its waters, and cast their waning shadows into its crystal 
bosom. But in course of time another change took place ; 
a greedy bricklayer of a churchwarden, who wanted a job out 
of the parish, proposed to build over the spring ; and cartloads 
of bricks and high mountains of mortar incased it on every 
side. The spring was effectually brick-bound, and upon it 
arose the Town Pump, with its spout and handle of iron, and 
a gas-light above it, and a stone cistern below, on which ap- 
peared, in all the emblazoning of municipal grandeur — 
"Erected in 1848 : Job Trick and Giles Keen, Church- 
wardens. '' Then let us drink the health of these worthy 
gentlemen, and success to their better motives. Drink then 
again, my friends, to the cause of Temperance ; drink to the 
cause of peace all the world over; drink to the cause of 
righteousness ; to that of pure religion, drawn from the foun- 
tain-head of Him who called himself the " Living Water." 
Pump away, while you have life, in the cause of Truth ! Pump 
away, my lads, for all that thirst ! Let our Town Pump be 
our Physician, our Town Councillor, our Keeper of the Peace, 
and our best resource when we are sick, sad, or thirsty. 

||e goaitjjfol Iclson. 

LORD NELSON, our great Naval Commander, was, in 
his youth, remarkable for his disinterestedness and in- 
trepidity. Among his school-fellows, he was always the first 
to do a noble thing ; and, whenever he thoughtlessly joined 



others in doing a foolish one, he never shrank from the res- 
ponsibility ; but, instead of trying to shift the blame upon 
others, was always ready to take it upon himself. On one 
occasion, while at school, upon an approaching Fifth of No- 
vember, the Rev. Mr. Jones, with whom Nelson went to 
school, at North Walsham, strictly prohibited any of the 
scholars from leaving the house or grounds, to go in search 
of what is called " Plunder j" that is, wood, sticks, and loose 
stubble, with which bonfires are generally constructed, and 
the getting of which sometimes plays sad havoc with hedges, 
railings, and the like. This was, indeed, a sad misfortune to 
the school-boys, who always feel that the best part of the fuu 
of a Fifth of November is the prowling about for forage ; and 
a glorious thing it has ever been and ever will be, to see 
boys bearing their boughs of trees, roots of trees, stumplings 
and hedgelings, into the grand square of the play-ground, 
with almost military honors. The shouting, the warm hands 
and hearts, the cheerful faces, the mad pranks, and the 
thousand laughable incidents which occur, give to these sports 
a charm unknown to any other youthful frolics. Nelson was 
not a boy to relinquish this old custom ; and therefore, when 
before going to bed on the Fourth of November, the Reverend 
Dominie pronounced the interdiction, and solemnly warned 
the school-boys not to attempt any wild freaks on that day 
of brimstone-matches and. fire-works, Nelson's blood rose 
into his face, and he said, loudly — 

" I hope you don't include me, Sir." 

" Not include you, Sir ?" replied the indignant Clergyman. 
" Indeed I do include you, Sir! and positively insist upon 
your keeping with the other boys in the school-room, and not 
to leave the play-ground." d 2 


*• I can't answer for myself, Sir," replied Nelson ; " and you 
can't answer for the boys, I am sure. Such a thing was 
never heard of since the days of James the First." 

" I do positively enjoin the strictest obedience to my com- 
mands," said the Master, "and positively forbid any one from 
leaving the school premises to-morrow," and, with a severe look 
at Nelson, the Master ordered the boys to bed on the instant. 

The lads of the school, in number about forty, were domi- 
ciled in one large bed-room. As soon as the doors were shut 
and the lights out, little Nelson leaped out of bed, and 
whispered, loud enough to be heard by all — 

" Who is for a sky-lark ?" 

" I — I — I — I — I — I am," responded a dozen voices ; and, 
in the same moment, as many lads leaped out of their beds, 
and were jumping about the dormitory in their long bed- 

" It is bright moonlight," said Nelson. 

" What a beautiful night for a ramble," said little Eugene 
Harris, the schoolmaster's nephew. 

"What a beautiful night for 'plunder' for a bonfire," 
rejoined Nelson ; and thereupon all the boys leaped out of 
bed, and ran to the windows. 

" 'Tis too soon yet," said Nelson ; " it is but nine o'clock : 
let us wait till twelve and then sally out, and get as much 
fire-wood into the play-ground as will reach to the level of 
the old Clock-house, and set fire to it in the morning, and 
begin our day as we are wont to end it," cried Nelson. " In 
the meantime put on your clothes, and get ready for a start." 

The boys did as they were told ; for, although Nelson was 
smaller than many, and younger than most, he had obtained 
such an influence over his schoolfellows, that every one 


seemed quite ready to do his bidding. They knew that they 
could depend upon him; that, if he got them into a scrape, 
he would, somehow or other, contrive to bring them off again 
with honor, although he suffered in their stend. Thus, the 
boys made themselves ready for the enterprise ; and Nelson 
began by tying the sheets and blankets together, by which 
the boys were to descend from the bed-room to the ground ; 
and long before midnight all was ready for the exploit. 

The moon, which had been shining brilliantly, had, how- 
ever, now become obscured by darkened, dismal clouds, and 
the wind began to howl fearfullv. Some of the bovs were 
disturbed at this state of the elements, and ventured to sug- 
gest a postponement of the enterprise. 

" The more the danger the greater the fun," cried Nelson ; 
"besides which, the less likely are we to be seen or heard — 

' So, let the wind blow ; 
Our ship rocks so.' 

The wilder the night, the frisker we will be." He then 
opened the window, and let down the first knotted set of 
blankets ; and, calling on all those who had got any spirit for 
a good thing to follow him, he descended by the said blankets 
into the shrubbery underneath. 

Most of the boys followed ; but a portion of the younger 
branches were too timid to descend, and kept a good look-out 
at the windows. In the meantime, Nelson mustered his 
followers in three divisions — ten in each — placing a captain 
to each * corps." He then directed them to proceed in three 
several directions, and to capture all that was burnable, and 
bring it to a grand rendezvous, underneath the great clump of 



trees at the further end of the thruhhery contiguous to the 

— r_ icwHsir -* 

- .< 'f benjp 



Noble and exciting was the work of that dreary night. The 
wind blew, and the rain came; but, nothing daunted, the 
little heroes went long distances for their " plunder ;" and, 
like bees in search of honey and wax, went and returned 
with all the delight and joy imaginable. Young Nelson was 
here and there, and everywhere ; now guiding, now directing, 
now cautioning, and now cheering his little army. At last, 
by the time morning dawned — which was not very early at 
that time of the year — such a tremendous lot of matters were 
brought together as had never been known on any former 
occasion. It filled all the back avenue of the shrubbery, and 
there seemed almost enough of material to set a town on fire. 
Nelson, who beheld this accumulation of igneous matter, felt 
his heart beat with joy ; and a thought suddenly seized him 
of bringing the whole into the play-ground, and of setting 
fire to it, to begin the day. This idea was no sooner com- 
municated to his playmates than it was eagerly adopted ; and, 
in less than half-an-hour, bushes, straw, branches of trees, 
blocks of wood, tarred palings, and a variety of odd things, 
such as it would be puzzling to describe, were piled up in the 
centre of the play-ground to the height of twenty feet, and 
with a base equal to it, so as to form a most noble pyramid. 

The day was breaking; and, just as the full light broke 
upon the pile, worthy of a Sardanapalus, all the merry 
workers felt proud of their labours. Some capered, some 
danced, some almost shrieked with joy ; and Nelson, beholding 
the excitement, could net refrain, in the true spirit of a sailor 
that was to be, from crying out, at the top of his voice — 

" Three cheers for an old Guy ! Hurrah for a bonfire !" 

Three cheers were immediately given, shrill and loud as the 


wild war-whoops of so many ferocious Indians. Again, and 
again— for, once begun, the youngsters seemed as if they 
could never leave oif, and the welkin rang with the noise. 

Its effects had not been anticipated ; and the cheering had 
scarcely subsided, when up flew a window, and in the centre 
of it appeared the head of the Reverend Doctor. In a moment 
the boys vanished, as if by instinct ; and, rushing round the 
gable end of the premises, regained their bed-chamber by the 
same means they had escaped from it. Not so, however, with 
their leader. He only hid himself behind the laurels and 
evergreens; feeling it a point of honor not to leave the post 
of danger till the very last. At the same time, the Dominie 
kept vociferously shouting from his chamber-window — 

" l^ou wicked boys ! you shall all of you smart for this ! I 
will flog every one of you who have dared to disobey my 
orders ; and, as to a bonfire, you shall never have one as long 
as I live." So saying, he disappeared from the window, with 
the intention of coming down to the court-yard ; and ringing 
furiously at the bell to awaken the servants, and calling 
loudly for John and Richard, the groom and gardener, he 
made the best of his way down stairs. 

In the interim, Nelson, who had heard the threat, fear- 
ing that after all he and his companions would be deprived 
of the fun, frolic, and glory of a bonfire, determined to 
be beforehand with the M agister, — crept slyly into the 
stable, where he knew a tinder-box and matches were alwavs 
kept, speedily struck a light and, as quick as light itself, 
ran to the immense pile, and set fire to it. In a few 
seconds all was in a blaze ; and as the flames rose up, and 
thick volumes of smoke on every side, and the whole atmos- 


phere became illuminated, the Dominie appeared with his 
servants, male and female, at the back-door. He, indeed, 
wore a look of most odd consternation, while a sly laugh 
peeped from the peering eyes of the groom and gardener, and 
twinkled out of the corners of the mouths of the cook and 
housemaid. Nelson had mounted a fine old Scotch fir-tree 
a short distance off, to observe the fun — and rare fun it was — 
for the Reverend Doctor took to pulling the fire to pieces ; 
and in so doing set fire to the thatched roof of the cow-house, 
which required the united aid of John and Richard to extin- 
guish. All was hubbub and confusion ; no one knew exactly 
what to do — and one ran one way and one another. The 
stable-boy, a sly rogue, thought he could not do better than 
run for the parish -engine; but the flames rose so high and 
furiously, that they threatened, long before the parish-engine 
arrived, to make up their minds to burn themselves out, with 
" all the honors." By this time the boys had all dressed 
themselves, and came to the scene of conflagration as meek 
and astonished as if they knew nothing whatever about it. 
The Master was in a furious fever, and had under his arm his 
very best strapping-cane, determined to use it woefully so 
soon as the fire was got under. At last, the great blaze 
slackened ; sundry crackings and hangings were heard. Now 
the upper parts fell in, and made a great dust and smoke — 
then again it blazed out for a few brief moments with redou- 
bled fury, at which the young gentlemen could not refrain 
from testifying their infinite approbation, to the extreme 
mortification of their Master. The engine at last arrived 
to play on the expiring embers ; and, in the language of that 
part of the country, the fire was " douted" 


But " after pleasure cometh pain," as the old round-hand 
copy used to preach. The period of retribution walked quietly 
forth. It was not yet the hour of breakfast, and the first 
thing the enraged Dominie did was to issue a mandate for 
the stoppage of the breakfast supplies, till the bold, daring, 
impudent, disobedient authors of the freak were discovered, 
and brought to condign punishment. The whole of the boys 
were speedily mustered, (to be soon peppered) and brought 
into the school-room, where they stood trembling for their 
fate. Fierce with rage — his pig-tail bristling with indig- 
nation — the Master, with cane under arm, and with a frown on 
his face, appeared at his desk. Forty boys stood before him, 
uncertain of their coming tortures, and Nelson foremost 
among them. " I demand/' said the Master, in a voice of 
thunder, " who it is that has dared to brave mv authority : 
and I promise free pardon and a holiday to those who 
will f 

" Betray their companions ?" said Nelson. 

This was a flash of lightning on a touch-hole of powder, 
and immediately made the Master spring from his desk, and 
taking hold of Nelson by the collar, brought him into the 
middle of the school. 

" You are one of them ! " said the enraged Clerical, " and 
unless you immediately tell me who are the guilty 
parties in this exploit, I will strip the skin from your 

" The skinning of an eel is a difficult job," said Nelson — 
" but as to who did the deed, I can inform you at once. It 
was I." 

" Yes, I know it was you — for you are the mover of all 


such harum-soarum exploits; but who were your abettors 
and instigators?" 

" I instigated myself/' said Nelson. 

" No doubt, no doubt — but I will know who your com- 
panions were, and I'll warrant this cane shall bring it out of 

"Try it/' said Nelson. 

Exasperated by this cool impudence, the Master applied 
the cane vigorously to the young hero's shoulders, who stood 
the process with much about the same indifference as a gate- 
post. At the end of the caning, Nelson said, mildly — 

" Stop and take breath, Sir — you will hurt your consti- 

This was too much for human endurance, and the Master 
gave it to Master Nelson again, with a hearty good will, and 
only ceased when the cane split into two. Nelson, standing 
as obdurate as before, said — 

" I think that tree will bear no more good fruit, and ought 
to be cast into the fire. But Sir, let me tell you, had that 
cane been a crab-stick, and had that crab -stick been knobbled 
all over, and had each of those knobs had a sharp spike on 
it, it would not have made me dishonourably betray my 
companions. I am quite ready to bear this, and as much 
more, for their sakes. Thirty were with me, and ten were 
not — you cannot thrash the real heroes, because you cannot 
tell which they are ; but give me twenty times my share, 
and I shall be thankful — I am the ring leader of the affair, 
and ought to be punished. I instigated thirty Spartans to 
the noble work of keeping up Guy Faux Day — I am proud 
of it. — A bonfire on the Fifth of November is a chartered 


right of school-boys, and we only say, ■ Pro arts et focis.' 
Do not be unmerciful to us, good Sir — you were once a boy 
— and how many ' bonfires ' may you not have had — and 
how many ' Guys' may you not have dressed? Do look over 
this offence, if it be one, and we'll all do double tasks for the 
next month, and say you are a good master, as you always 
have been." 

This pertinent, but noble speech, found an echo in the 
breast of the good old Clergyman, for he was, notwithstanding 
this somewhat stringent prohibiting, a kind old man at heart. 
He could not conceal his emotion — and hid his face behind 
his desk, under the pretence of having dropped his key. 
Presently, after a short season of cool reflection, he descended 
from the rostrum, and coming among the boys, thus addressed 
them : — 

'* My boys," he said, " obedience to my orders is not only a 
duty to me, but to yourselves — you are not old enough to 
know at all times what is really good for you. Nor is it 
proper at all times that I should give you reasons for my con- 
duct. It ought to be enough, that when I lay down a rule 
you should have good faith in my intentions, and you ought 
to be well aware that I would in no way restrict your enjoy- 
ments but for some good reason. By your conduct you have 
not only disobeyed my commands, but you have probably 
inflicted a very serious wound in the breast of one who is a 
stranger in this place, deserves all the rights of hospitality, 
and of Christian charity. Our new neighbour here, Sir 
Thomas Alton, is a Roman Catholic ; his gardens adjoin ours. 
As a school, our doings must be a sufficient nuisance to him. 
He only came amongst us last Michaelmas, and yet he gave 


you peaches by the hat-full, and nectarines by scores. He is 
a Roman Catholic, as I said before, and it was not for us 
to poke a ' Guy Faux ' or a ' bonfire ' under his nose — we 
should not have liked it ourselves — and there is nothing like 
the religion that teaches us to do as we would be done by. 
The first duty we owe to a neighbour is to be charitable to 
his opinions ; if they are not the same as ours, that is the very 
reason why we should act the more forbearingly and lovingly 
towards him. But, by your conduct, you have thwarted all 
my good intentions, defeated my charity, and spoiled my love/' 

" If we had known this/' said Nelson, " we would not have 
touched a billet or a faggot for the world." 

" Would that I had informed you of it," replied the Master; 
" and from the circumstance I may also learn a lesson : That 
it is wiser to teach by appeals to reason and to conscience, 
than to expect much from a blind obedience. Boys are, in- 
deed, but men of a smaller growth. Yet still, if you love me, 
and have faith in me, you will obey me without asking the 

" We will do anything," said Nelson, " to show our love to 
Sir Thomas." 

" You can do nothing, Sir," replied the Master. " You will 
probably have inflicted a wound which I shall find some dif- 
ficulty in healing." 

" Not in the least, my dear Sir," said a voice, in an Irish 
accent, from the door, which stood partly open. " By my 
faith, I think the boys are all heroes ; and if they want a 
Guy, if they will come up to the Hall, I will be a Guy myself, 
and we will have a good fire, and roasted apples, and roasted 
chesnuts, and sure we will roast one another ; which is a vast 



deal better than so much basting. So come along my lads, 
and take me for your Guy Faux." 

Three cheers simultaneously burst forth at this speech. 
The Doctor was overcome with agreeable emotion. Nelson 
ran to kiss the hand of Sir Thomas ; and after mutual congra- 
tulations, the boys had a cheerful breakfast, and made the 
merriest day at the Hall that they ever before enjoyed, by the 
most grotesque Guy on the most splendid bonfire. 

Sontctjjinj afoot % feluslj IJroMntes. 

WAR, my young friends, is a fiendish sport. It has 
been said it is a game that, if their subjects were 
wise, kings could not play at. Its object is — killing on a 
large scale ; mowing down men as if they were fields of corn, 
and with as little compunction ; bringing bristling bayonets, 
grape and canister-shot, red-hot balls, explosive bombs, and 
volleys of bullets upon poor humanity ; and blowing up into 
the air, or down into the deep, thousands of poor unfortunate 
fellows who, perhaps, know no more about the quarrel that 
produced the war, than so many unhatched chickens. Truly, 
to read history, one might suppose that the human race, 
during the last four thousand years at least, must have been 
a little insane ; there seems so little reason for all the bom- 
bardments, assaults, battles, and massacres, which have taken 
place. Well, we thought ourselves getting wiser ; the boys 
and girls that had read "Peter Parley's Annual" fifteen 
years ago, had become men and women ; and education had 
made great strides. The drill-sergeant of the German 
despots was drafted into our schools; and Chelsea children 
were taught to read by military discipline, with a view to 


their being made friends of humanity, and lovers of peace. 
The European kings and potentates were a Holy Alliance of 
loving brothers, and had pretended that the Christian religion 
should be their future guide. They said this, after they had 
received several and sundry sound drubbings from the great 
Napoleon; and, -while rubbing their shoulders and sides, after 
one cudgelling they had received — and deservedly received, 
too — said, they would be very good boys. But, as soon as 
the danger was past, and they had got a little over their 
various mishaps, they began to lie, rob, cheat, and filch, 
not onJy from each other, but from their next-door neigh- 
bours, like so many wolves or foxes. At last, one savage 
old Bear, more savage and more powerful than the rest, 
makes a grab at a Turkey ; whereupon the Turkey, instead 
of falling a victim, like a goose, blew up his purple nose like 
a windy sun-rise, and puffed out his feathers, and stretched 
forth his wings, and came towards the old Bear like a game- 
cock, and called upon the British Lion and the French Eagle 
to back him. "But what is all this about?" my young 
friends inquire. Take a map, and look at it. Find out the 
Black Sea; and you will see on its northern coast, the 
Russian Empire stretches down towards the south ; and, to 
the west, you will see certain provinces which belong to 
Turkey, the principal of which is Moldavia. It is the most 
northern province of Turkey. It is bounded on the east by 
Bessarabia — a province which formed part of Turkey until 
1812, when it was given up to the great Russian Bear; 
on the south is Wallachia ; and on the west and north, by the 
provinces of the Austrian Empire. The province forms a com- 
pact territory, about 200 miles in length, and 120 in breadth. 


Moldavia formed part of the Byzantine or Eastern Empire, 
and suffered greatly from the incursions of the rude hordes 
which infested Europe in the middle ages. When the Turks 
conquered Constantinople from the Greek Emperors, Moldavia 
by a timely submission, obtained favourable treatment from 
the Sultan ; and had its own laws, liberties, and religion 
secured. Thus it remained for two centuries : at length the 
Czar of Russia directed his attention to this province ; but 
was unable to lay hold of it at that time. What he will do 
now remains to be seen. 

Although Moldavia forms a part of the Turkish dominions, 
the Moldavians are not Mahommedans. They profess the 
religion of the Greek Church — a superstitious and corrupt 
form of Christianity professed also by the Russians. Persons 
who have not received baptism by the rites of this Church are 
not deemed Christians; the misguided people dwell upon 
rites and ceremonies, oblations, offerings, prayers to images, 
severity of discipline ; and the heaviest crimes are settled by 
confession and absolution of the Priest. Reading and the 
perusal of the Holy Scriptures are almost wholly unknown ; 
and though we might at first be glad that the Moldavians 
were not Mahommedans, yet, when we consider the iniquities 
of the creed they follow, it would perhaps be better if they were. 

The Moldavians believe in all sorts of witchcraft, in appa- 
ritions of the dead, in ghosts and in miracles performed by the 
images of saints. In illness they place an image near them, 
and when they recover, they attribute the recovery to the 
efficacy of the image alone. No prayers or thanksgiving are 
offered up either to the Deity or to the Saviour ; but to the 
Virgin and a prodigious number of Saints. 



The principal food of the peasantry consists of a Kind of 
dough, called mamma linga, made of the flour of Indian 
wheat, sometimes mixed with milk. The season of Lent is 
usually kept hy them with vigorous severity, and for the first 
two or three days after its termination, they sparingly indulge 
themselves with a little meat : but many of them are too 
poor to obtain this indulgence, and content themselves with 
a few eggs only. 

The dress of these people bears some resemblance to that 
of the Dacians, in the time of the Romans; and has proba- 
bly suffered but little change for centuries. Their feet are 
covered with sandals made of goat skin. They wear a kind 
of loose pantaloon, which is fastened to the waist by a light 
leathern belt, and closes from the knee downwards. The 
upper part of the dress is composed of a light waistcoat, and 
a short jacket over it, of coarse cotton stuff; in winter they 
add a white sheep-skin, which is hung over the shoulders in 
the manner of the hussar's pelisse. The hair is twisted 
round the back of the head,, and covered with a cap, usually 
of sheep- skin. The women are generally clothed from the 
neck to the ancles in a long gown of light- coloured cheap 
cotton, made high at the waist, which they cover on holiday 
occasions with a shorter dress, buttoned from the neck to the 
waist, and ornamented with one or two rows of beads. Under 
ordinary circumstances the poorer classes go barefoot, and 
have no covering for the head, except a handkerchief. 

Almost every village has a small church or chapel belong- 
ing to it, and one or two priests who act as curates. The 
ecclesiastics of their order are chosen from amongst the 
ordinary peasants, from which they are only distinguished 


by an immense beard. They lead the same sort of life, 
and follow their usual labour, when not engaged in the 
exercise of their cleiical functions ; but they are exempted 
from taxes. The generality of them can neither read nor 
write. They learn the formula of the services by rote, and 
if a book is seen in their chapels, it is more for ornament 
than use. 

The towns and seaports of Moldavia partake of that mixed 
European character that results from the intercourse'betvreen 
merchants, dealers, &c. The peasants' huts are all built of 
the same size and style j the walls are of clay, and the roofs 
thatched with straw, neither of which is calculated to protect 
the inmates from the inclemencies of bad weather. The 
ground-floors are, however, occupied as long as the weather 
will permit ; and in the winter the inmates retire to cells 
underground, easily kept warm by a little fire made of dung, 
roots, and some branches of trees, which, at the same time, 
serves for cooking their scanty food. Each family, however 
numerous, sleeps in one of these subterranean habitations, 
the beds being formed of coarse woollen rags. 

Perhaps the most extraordinary feature in the structure 
of Moldavian society is the vast number of gipsies residing 
therein. Their bodily constitution is strong, and they are so 
hardened by constant exposure to the cold weather, that they 
appear fit for any labour or fatigue ; but their natural aver- 
sion to a life of industry is, in general, so great, that they 
prefer all the miseries of indigence to the enjoyment of 
comforts that are to be reaped by persevering exertion. 

Both men and women are finely formed, but are exceed- 
ingly dirty in their habits and appearance. They acknow- 

e 2 



ledge no particular religion ; nor do they think of following 
the precepts of any, nnless compelled. Their chief occupa- 
tion, in their vagrant life, is the making of iron tools, baskets, 
and other cheap articles. They attend wine-houses and 
taverns, and are sometimes called to the houses of noblemen 
when a concert ia to be given } as many of them play rudely 
on various concert instruments. When the public works are 
to be constructed, the Government gipsies, who are acquainted 
with masonry, are called in to assist the labourers, receiving 
food and no wages, and are, in other respects, treated like 

I have, for the present, confined myself principally to the 
humbler classes of the Moldavians. I shall, in my next 
prattle, inform my young readers of the Wallachians, and of 
the country of Wallachia, which the Great Russian Bear 
wants to steal. 


Sonwtljhtg abort % Qh |§tg$ a$ C astlts 

of duglmifc. 

%» E give in the above engraving a view 
^ of the ruins of an Old Monastery, and 
fM as it suggests a train of ideas, pertain- 
ing to bye-gone ages, I must give 

my young friends the benefit of them. 


What about Monasteries? I should like to hear something 
about them — for wherever we travel we come to ruins of some 
kind or other, most of which are of Old Castles, or Old 
Monasteries, and therefore I should like to know more about 
them. This is what many of my young readers would say, 
and upon this "would say" — I join issue. 

Monasteries are buildings to which people retired when they 
were tired of the world, or when they were unfortunate, or 
when they were wicked — and sometimes when they were 
good. The inclination to a monastic life arose with the 
corruptions of society, and with the dangers in which every 
body shared in the strifes, feuds, and wars of the dark ages. 
Those well-disposed persons who found it difficult to resist 
the corruptions of the times, sought in solitude a protection 
against temptation ; and that fondness for contemplation, so 
curious in Eastern parts of the world, gave rise to the most 
ancient oriental philosophy, and also to that peculiar sanctity 
to which those who retired from the world often attained. To 
this was added the opinion, that, transgressions may be 
best atoned for by abstinence from all the pleasures of life, 
and from all society with men. And thus, according to 
an early notion popular througout the East, the Deity 
might be appeased. Anchorites, hermits, recluses, and 
monks are therefore found in the anti-christiau times of 
Asiatic antiquity, and are also still prevalent in India and 
other parts of the Orient. 

Among the Christians, whose religion assumes a spiri- 
tural and solitary nature among some, — a man used, as he 
thought, to elevate his soul above the world by hiding 
himself in buildings of thick stone, with little low doors and 


windows barely sufficient to let in the light of Heaven. Mon- 
asteries were first founded in the deserts of Upper Egypt, 
where Antony commonly called " the Great/' collected a num- 
ber of hermits, about the year 803. These, for the sake of 
enjoying the benefit of retirement from the world in each 
other's society, built their huts close together, and performed 
their devotional exercises in common. In the middle of the 
fourth century, Pachomius built a number of houses at a small 
distance from each other, upon the island of Tabenna, on the 
Nile, each of which was occupied by three or four monks in 
cells, who were ail under the superintendance of a Prior. These 
Priories formed together theCasnobium, or Monastery — which 
was under the care of a Superior, the Abbot (from Abbas 
father) — and the monks were obliged to submit to uniform 
rules of life. Many of the monasteries were strictly enclosed 
with high walls, so as to preserve the immates from the tempta- 
tions of the world around them ; and to supply the place of the 
solitude of deserts. Hence the name ofCloisters, from Claustra, 
" inclosures.' 1 The monks were soon after made to conform to 
still more strict discipline, which, in many cases, consisted in 
the most extreme mortification of the body. Stone beds, hair 
shirts, roots to eat and water to drink ; long kneelings, fre- 
quent prostrations, severe whippings, and endless repetitions 
of prayers, were among the more common ways of securing 
admission to the realms of bliss ; thus monasteries became 
the resort of all those who thought that heaven was attainable 
by such methods. Similar establishments for females were also 
instituted, called Nunneries, where women underwent complete 
exclusion from the world and the severest mortifications, many 
of which have been attempted to be revived in our own times, 



in connection with the Church of England. The Nunneries 
were, in some instances, worse in their effects than the 
monasteries ; and it is a well-known fact that the vilest means 
were taken to imprison young females in such places by 

wicked relatives, who divided their fortunes with the priests, 
who shut them in. 

Yet with all their abuses, many of the monasteries of the 


more enlightened European States became the dwellings of 
piety, industry, and temperance ; and the refuge of learning, 
during the prevalence of those frightful wars which desolated 
the world in the dark ages. Yet, as the world became more 
settled, and as wealth began to abound, the monasteries 
became the receptacles of every kind of iniquity and luxury ; 
and with it, the grossest immorality crept within their 
walls — together with all the vices of the world ; indeed, mur- 
ders, with other abominable crimes, werefrequently committed 
in these dismal dwellings. At last the Reformation arose. 
In this country, King Henry VIII. seized upon the monastic 
revenues, and applied them to the service of the State, and 
to himself. In various parts of Europe where the Light of 
the Gospel penetrated, other kings or rulers imitated our 
King Henry ; and from these enormous revenues, institutions 
for educational purposes were founded and supported. In 
Catholic countries they retained their original constitution, 
till the eighteenth century. From the influence of the spirit 
of the age they sunk in public estimation — their whole system 
was exploded. Many monasteries have become extinct, many 
others are with difficulty sustained ; but still, in the more be- 
nighted countries of Europe they exist, to the great detri- 
ment of social progress, and will be only overthrown by the 
advance of intelligence, and the spread of sound religious 

One of the most famous of these institutions, in England, 
was St. Mary's Abbey, York. It was situated near the walls 
of York, and during nearly five centuries maintained a very 
high rank among the religious establishments of the North. 
Its origin, as given by its first Abbot, is as follows : — Not 



long after the Norman conquest, Runifried, a pious monk, 
fixed his cell at Whitby, with the hope of being there wholly 
secluded from the world. His fame attracted round him a 

great number of devout persons, among Mhom was Stephen, 
afterwards the Abbot. From the Earl of Northumbria the 
monks obtained a grant of land ; but when, by their labours, 
they had cultivated and improved it, the Earl became their per- 
secutor, to inducethemto relinquish what they had made trebly 
valuable. They were also harassed by the frequent attacks 


of pirates by sea, and robbers by land. Driven from their first 
place of sojourn by these distresses, they obtained from the 
K ng permission to repair for themselves the Monastery 
of Lashingham, then lying in ruins, about twenty miles to 
the north-west of Whitby. Nevertheless, in this solitude 
they found no rest ; they were constantly subjected to the 
assaults of robbers and the enmity of their former perse- 
cutors, and also of the Archbishop of York, who claimed part 
of their domain. The case was carried at last before 
the tribunal of the King in person, who promised to see the 
monks righted ; but the King dying, the claim of the Arch- 
bishop was renewed, till William Rufus interfered and gave 
to the Archbishop, in lieu of the disputed ground, a Church 
in York, dedicated to St Stephen. Soon afterwards, this 
monarch visiting York, laid with his own hand the first stone 
of a new and larger establishment than that which the monks 
had hitherto possessed, and calling it after St. Mary, made to 
it liberal grants and privileges. 

This religious fraternity were Black Monks, of the Order 
of St. Benedict. Their Abbot was little inferior to the Bishop 
of the province, being mitred, and having a seat in Parlia- 
ment, which entitled him to the dignified appellation of " my 
lord/' Kis retinue was sumptous whenever he travelled 
abroad, and he possessed two country seats in the neighbour- 
hood of York, and a house in London, near Paul's Wharf. 
He had also a spacious park well stocked with game. This 
sumptousness engendered jealousy among the people of the 
City of York, who on several occasions burned parts of the 
abbey, and slew the monks. Simon, the Abbot, could not 
appease the tumult, except upon paying a hundred pounds 



as a peace offering to the enraged party. Afterwards, an 
enormous wall was built to defend the abbey from these 
depredations, which effctually prevented such disasters, till 
the time of the dissolution of monasteries, of which I have 

At this time there were, in the house, fifty monks, including 
the abbot, the prior, and one sub-prior, with a revenue of 
£2,091 48. 7d. per annum, equal to £20,000 of our money, 
which was a pretty good sum for the support of fifty monks. 

The mitred abbeys, at the dissolution, were for the most 
part granted by the King to noble or wealthy families, in 


consideration of service or exchange of lands, or for the 
payment of money; and the harvest was a rich one that the 
King reaped by this plundering of the monks. Soon after 
the dissolution, an order was issued by the Crown, to level 
the Abbey, and erect, with due alacrity, a palace for the resi- 
dence of the Lords President of the North : thus its splendid 
architecture was cut up piecemeal. Some beautiful remains 
were, notwithstanding, still left ; and, upon the formation 
of a Philosophical Society, in 1822, the site of St. Mary's 
Abbey was chosen as a proper situation for the erection of a 
Botanic Garden. It was the spot on which the front of 
the palace had formerly stood, and which had previously 
been occupied by the range of buildings and apartments 
of the monastery. The first opening of the ground dis- 
covered antiquarian treasures, that even Keet, the great 
antiquarian, would have rejoiced at. Not mere heaps of 
mutilated stones were there, but whole portions of the walls 
of the monastery ; of spacious and elegant door ways ; of 
columns of various forms, rising to the height of five or six 
feet, standing, as they had been, before the dissolution of the 
monastery, intersected by massive foundations of the palace. 
Not an hour passed without bringing to light some long- 
buried specimens of the art and fancy of the monastic 

In travelling over a country, my young friends will 
frequently meet with similar buildings to those I have 
attempted to describe — and I would only observe, that anti- 
quities are a most interesting study. The spirit of times gone 
by live in the midst of monastic ruins — and from such we 
may trace the deeds of our forefathers, and enter into 



familiar conversation witli them. Nor must we deem our 
progenitors entirely unworthy our regard and veneration; 
for, notwithstanding the barbarous ages in which they lived 
— notwithstanding the ignorance that surrounded them — 
and notwithstanding their superstition and bigotry — they have 
left us a rich inheritance; and our own times teem with 
the glories, the virtues, and sterling worth of the past. 

§nmg$ aitb f nitons, it % §tlls rf 
St. Clement's. 

WHAT a beautiful thing is Memory ! It is like the 
softened sounds of receding music ; it is like the 
long track of silvery spray which a ship leaves on the divided 
waters. Twilight is the air's remembrance of the sun. In 
the olden time, there were some who thought that in child- 
hood we had recollections of Heaven ; and, probably, this 
little world of ours will be a memory to us when we have left 
it for ever. It is a happy thing that we can drink again some 
of the sweetness of a by-gone joy ; and very useful, though 
not so pleasant, that we can recall our past errors and follies, 
and, by steeping them in regret and shame, turn them into 
lessons of duty. 

Pietro Limoncelo was a poor foreigner from the sunny 
shores of the Mediteranean. While yet a youth, the political 
troubles of his country had obliged him to leave his home 
among the fruits and sunbeams, and to find a refuge in 
London, where he earned a poor living as a journeyman- 
tailor. He lodged in a garret, in a court branching off from 
the Strand, near the church of St. Clement Danes. "What 


a change for him ! He who had lived near an orange grove, 
who had basked in the sunshine of the South, or under the 
shade of purple vines, or beneath the trees where " orange 
lamps in a green light," glimmered with a golden beauty — 
he to become the tenant of a poor room in a dingy thorough- 
fare, amidst gloom and discomfort, and the hard life of 
English poverty — it was a sad change, indeed, if such changes 
happen to any of us, we must keep up our hearts, by remem- 
bering that no gloom or darkness can obscure the vision of 
the Supreme, and that the beams of his blessedness may 
penetrate even into the dreariest places. 

Pietro had not been regularly apprenticed to a tailor : it 
could not be said of him that he had learned the trade ; but 
he had picked up a little knowledge of it from time to time, 
and practice improved him. What he did was done pretty 
well, but he was not ranked as a first-class workman ; con- 
sequently, the only department in which he could get 
employment was that in which is called the " Slop " — a 
department in which goods are got up, common in quality 
and low in price, for the accommodation of humble cus- 
tomers. There was not much opportunity here of earning 
handsome wages ; it was a bare living, and nothing more. 

One evening he was sitting cross-legged on his board, 
bending wearily over some work that had just come in 
from his employers, the great Tailoring firm of Push, Puff, 
Poetry, Placard, and Company. He had lately felt very 
unwell, and unable to work with his usual energy ; he had 
been obliged more than once to cut oft" three or four from 
his wonted number of labour hours. Less work brought, as 
a consequence, less pay ; and so the cupboard got bare, and 


matters became very desperate indeed with the poor Tailor. 
He had just put the last stitch to a couple of waistcoats 
which were lying on the board beside him, when a mixed 
feeling of hunger, pain and weakness, brought this sad 
thought into his mind : — " Might I not, without crime, raise 
a little money on one of these waistcoats, to give my sinking 
body its needful nourishment ? I would make restitution as 
soon as my health returned." Conscience grew very uneasy 
at this thought, and interrupted it several times with " No ! 
no ! no \" but want and pain were so loud in their clamours 
that these " noes " were overwhelmed. Pietro determined to 
go out and see if half-a-crown could not be borrowed, for a 
day or two, on one of the waistcoats; he was rising from his 
board for the purpose, when a giddy faintness came over him, 
and he was obliged to sit down again. " Ah ! I see how it 
is/' said he ; "I am too weak to move to night ; I must lie 
down and rest; I must put it off till to-morrow. Mean- 
while, I'll sleep upon it. *' 

At the counter of that Pawnbroker's shop, where three gilt 
balls hang over the door, and where brushed-up clothes of all 
kinds for men, women, and children dangle, from pegs in 
back rooms and gloomy passages, there stands a wretched 
man, with sallow cheeks, wild-looking eyes, and long streaming 
hair. He has just pledged a waistcoat, and with the money 
in his hand is leaving the shop, when he hears a rustling 
sound from above. Looking up, he sees a pale, serious face 
looking down upon him. It has an airy, spiritual look, 
and seems to be floating in the air on misty wings; and 


then, with a low, solemn, whispering voice it sings these 
words : — 

" Toll ! Toll ! 
When a wandering soul 
Forsaketh the truthful and fair : 
Its days are unblest, 
Its nights are unrest, 
In the bud of its hope is a worm of Despair. 
Toll! Toll!" 

Immediately a strong wind stirred through the belfry of 
St. Clement's, and the Bell gave out one long, funereal tone. 

The bewildered man leaves the shop and wanders into the 
street, not knowing whither. He had intended to buy some 
bread, and tea and sugar; but, in the remorse of his mind, 
and with those words ringing in his ears, hunger, and thirst, 
and faintness were all forgotten. He tramps backwards and 
forwards in the streets, like a sleep-walker in a wild dream. 

" Hollo ! " says a voice, " what's the matter with you ? 
you don't look over cheerful this evening. Why, if you was 
to go into a dairy, you'd turn the milk sour ! Step in here, 
man, and take a thimble-full to cheer your spirits ! It will 
do you good. Come 1 I'll stand treat to-night, and you shall 
do the same for me to-morrow." 

A door that swung upon its hinges admitted the two men 
into a glittering-looking temple, where many lights were 
shining with great brilliancy. Sparkling glasses and polished 
vessels of pewter increased by reflection the brightness of the 
light, and made the place look gay. There was the hum of 
many voices. In one corner the ringing of loud, coarse 
laughter — in another, the mutterings of rising quarrel ; here 
a song, there an oath, and everywhere that sad mingling of 


misery and merriment which are to be found in those scenes 
of sensuality. 

'* Now, young lady with the pretty curls, a couplo of glasses 
here for me and my friend! Here*s a furrener, you see. I 
aint got no prejudice against a furrener. I says to him, 
* Aint you a man and a brother f J Fine sentiment that, 
Miss ! When I was at school, at the Parochial College of St. 
Calves and Leather Breeches, I put that We sentiment into 
my Christmas piece, and it were very much admired. Come, 
mate ! your glass is standing ! Drink up ! Kerens towards 
you! Hollo! music above stairs } eh? 'Sons of Harmony! 
Grand Meeting Night ! Glorious Apollo ! Bacchus, God of 
Wine ! Marble Halls ! Alice Grey ! Never mention Her ! 
Nix my Dolly ! Buffalo Gals !' Well, if that aint a mixtur ! 
Two more glasses, Miss ! Drink up, mate ?' 

The wretched " mate," thus appealed to drinks up his 
glass and feels inspirited— his cheek glows— his blood flows 
merrily through his veins— and he is just beginning to forget 
that pale face in the air and the solemn singing. He goes 
to the doorway for a moment, and looks up into the misty 
night. Just then the Bells of St. Clement's chime-— a flut- 
tering, like wings is heard, and then a solemn whispering. 

" The phantom voice ! The phantom voice, again l" cries 
the wretched man ; and he runs from the place with the 
quickness of desperate fear. Bat the voice follows, and it 

sings : — 

' Hark ! the spirit of the Belis 
Upon St. Clement's Tower, 

Groans at every deed that tells 
Cf Evil's guilt;- 

p 2 


Struggle, strife ! 

And feverish life — - 
Struggle, strife, and din ; 

Night bells chiming, 

Serais declining 
Into deeps of sin." 

"Why, where are you running to? What the deuce is 
the matter with you V said the man left behind in the gin- 
temple, who had followed and overtaken the frightened ruu- 
away. " You're not going to get rid of me in this fashion 
to-night, I can tell you. I have got a little job for you to 
lend a hand in. Follow me !" and he takes him by the arm. 

They go on down a street towards the river, and in a dark 
bye-place, under a gateway, they meet two other men, with 
crape-masks on their faces and iron instruments in their 

" Jim !" said one of the disguised men, "is that you?" 

" All right P 

" Who have you got there ?" 

" A new friend of yours and mine. It's all right with him, 
too. He has been to ' my Uncle's/ and another shop since 
then. He's regularly in for it, now." 

" Let him come with us to-night, then ; we want a han d 
outside to watch, and help to carry. There's good booty to- 
night at that house yonder, in the left-hand corner. They 
have been borrowing plate to-day, against a grand wedding 
there to-morrow morning." 

The men skulked forward to the house named, and one 
with his iron instrument broke a shutter, then opened a 
window, and crept in. Others followed, and the wretched 
new accomplice is left outside to take what they shall hand 



out to him. The night is calm and still, with a few cold, 
glimmering stars above, and darkness all around. The 
wretched man paces up and down the dark gateway at the 
side of the house, trembling at the remembrance of those 
songs in the air. It is now twelve o'clock, and from all the 
belfries in the Strand, iron tongues proclaim it in solemn 
tones. The man's quick ear plainly distinquishes St. Clement's 
among them ; and, as he listens with fear, the pale face 
hovers over him once more, resting on its misty wings — 

" Tis midnight, and St. Clement's chime 
Counts the wicked hours of crime." 

He will hear no more. With hands raised to his head, and 
pressed tight against his ears, he runs with all the strength 
andfleetness of fevered madness and despair. Away ! away ! — 
from street to street ! Away from his guilty confederates — 
from the sound of St. Clement's bells — from the ghostly 
look and the fearful singing. Away ! if it were possible, 
from himself — away from the world ! 

He had reached a street in the neighbourhood of the Park, 
when he came to a house where a juvenile party was just 
breaking up. Some little boys and girls, rather sleepy and 
weary, and well wrapped up against the night air, were being 
lifted into coaches ; while others, a little older, were jumping 
in of their own accord, in a manner so fresh and vigorous, 
that one would have supposed they were going to a party 
instead of coming from one. In particular, there was one 
very fine boy, with a beautiful eye sparkling beneath a bold, 
open brow. He came dancing down the steps of the door- 
way, his pockets full of fruit, and a bright orange in his 


hand. He appeared to be thinking of one of the games 
he had played that evening, for he was singing to himself — 

" Oranges and Lemons ! 
Say the bells of St. Clement's ; " 

and turning round to a playmate, he said, "Ah, Charley, my 
side pulled the strongest, you know." Into the coach he 
jumped almost at one bound. As he did so, the orange in his 
hand fell from him and rolled far away down the street with 
a swift motion : and as the beautiful fruit went round and 
round on the smooth pavement, the light of the lamps above 
gleamed on its golden rind. It catches the eye of the poor 
fevered man. The mere words, " Oranges and Lemons ; " 
the sight of the beautiful fruit of his native land — the merry 
voice, the innocent brow, the happy smile of the child that 
had dropped it, came upon him like a spell, — he sinks down, 
and a vision floats upon his brain. 

The scene is in southern Europe, where the blue Mediter- 
ranean rolls from the straits of Gibraltar to the Syrian shores. 
There was the murmuring of tranquil, silvery waves — the soft 
breathing of the winds — the gushes of sweet music and joy 
from many a grove on the shore, and many a green cleft in 
the hills ; and one voice above the rest, in a tone of earnest 
and tender entreaty, rose in the warm skies as if a spirit were 
singing there. And this was its song : — 

" Remember thine early days — 
The orange grove, the vine-clad hill ; 

The river where the sunbeams play — 
The evening calm and still. 

" Remember thine early days — 
Thy mother's smile, thy sister's song ; 

Thy childhood's little hymns of praise, 
Which kept the heart from wrong." 


Then did the air and the ocean break out into a tender 
joy ; and the spirit of the man rode on the waves of sweet 
sound along the whole course of the Mediterranean into the 
sunny Adriatic, and among the rocks of the iEgean. And 
voices came from the Capes of Sicily, whispering that God 
the Beautiful expected his children to be Beautiful too — 
beautiful in spirit, in thoughts, affections, and desires. And 
a like strain floated over the Grecian Isles, and told the 
enraptured listener, what a spirit of love it was which had 
poured out the beauty of Heaven on the hills and plains and 
valleys of the world ; and it bid him believe that He who 
had cherished the grass and the flower through the dews of 
night and the chill of winter, did also intend a kindness to 
the soul, in pouring on it the dews of sorrow. 

And the man wept, and mingled his feeble voice with 
nature's, and they worshipped together, and said — " Our 
Father ! Hallowed be thy name I" 

" Decidedly better ! the skin is moist ; the eye is clearer ; 
the fever is subsiding ; he will do very well now." 

This was spoken by the house-surgeon of one of the 
London hospitals, as he stood by the bed-side of a patient in 
the fever ward — feeling the pulse, and watching the coun- 
tenance. The patient raised himself slightly on the pillows, 
and looked round with a wondering air. 

" Why ! who — who am I ?" 

" Who are you ?" said the Doctor, " that is a pretty 
question for a man to ask about himself. You are described 


in the hospital books as Pietro Limoncello — Journeyman 
Tailor. You'll remember it all presently." 

"How came I here?" 

" You were brought here by those who took pity on you ; 
you were found lying on your own shop-board in a state of 
delirium, and you were instantly removed to this hospital. 
You have been for some days insensible." 

" Oh, Doctor ! I have had such dreams." 

"Very likely — men in health have strange dreams, some- 
times; men in fever have still stranger ones. You have had 
time enough for a good deal of dreaming. But come ! you 
are going to get well now ; the fever has gone down, and 
your senses have come back to you. This is visitors' day : 
would you like to see a friend for a moment? I think you 

" I have got no friends in this country," said Pietro. 

"Haven't you? If J remember rightly, I heard some 
one asking to see you only a minute ago. It is a little girl 
that I have seen carrying milk about somewhere in the 

" Oh ! To be sure, I remember her well. How curious 
that she should think of me ! It is very kind. But she is a 
good girl ; she looks as if she had a gentle heart. I should 
like her to come up, Doctor." 

"Well, if you will not keep her too long, and not talk too 
much, she shall come." 

The Doctor turned away, and in a few minutes the little 
milk -girl was at the patient's bed-side. 

" Well, Mr. Moncello, I've come to see you. I would 
have come before, onty they told me you were too bad to 


know any one. Aunty sends a kind message, and says, 
If you will make haste and get better, I am to bring you 
a glass of new milk every day for a fortnight — real milk, 
sweet and new — that isn't to be got every day in London, I 
can tell you." 

The patient lifted the hand of the little girl to his lips, and 
thanked her with his eyes. 

" My little maid," he said after a pause, " I must not keep 
you long, nor talk much ; but just a few words I should like 
to say. You came from the country, did you not ? " 


" And was it very beautiful there ? " 

" Oh very ! My dear mother's cottage was in the middle 
of a garden, and honeysuckle grew over the porch, and 
birds built under the eaves. I have heard the cuckoo 
sing there in the spring, and the nightingale, too, in the 

" Remember thine early days ! " said the patient with 
trembling fervour. " My child ! you are a good girl ; I 
think you must have had a good mother." 

" My mother ! " said the child, bursting into tears. " Oh 
she was good indeed ! Oh ! how she prayed for me the night 
that she died ! I shall never forget it, never ! " 

Again the patient broke out, " Remember thine early days ! 
But go now my dear. Thank you, thank you kindly for 
coming. Heaven bless you ! " 

Pietro Limoncello recovered in due time, and returned 
to his poor trade. The visions of his illness strengthened his 
integrity ; heavenly hopes grew out of the roots of heavenly 
memories. Thoughts of the loveliness in other lands upraised 




liis heart to Him whose voice is gone out unto all lands ; 
and he felt that God would be ever present to such 
as trusted, and waited patiently for hiin. Wherever the 
mind and heart are devoted to duty and to Heaven, there 
hovers the Guardian of Souls, with outstretched wings. 
Yes ! even in the din of the Strand, in a wretched garret, at 
a tailor's board, God the all-beautiful is there. 


CJje %q $ac{jtIor, or sMrijjmg aktt Carbarn! 

FOUR hundred years ago, the Papal power was so great in 
Europe, that the whole of the countries of which it was 
composed formed, in reality, but one general state ; for by 
whatever names the provinces of Christendom were distingu- 
ished — empires, kingdoms, or republics — the people and their 
rulers alike acknowledged themselves subjects to the Pope. 
Royalty did homage to superstition, and mankind were bound 
in chains which they could not break. Man surrendered his 
reason, and gave up both body and soul to the power of the 
clergy, who exercised it for their own advantage, without any 
regard to truth, justice, or humanity. 

This state of things favoured opportunities for bold and 
resolute minds to exalt themselves to greatness, and it was 
the boast of the Church then, as now, that the meanest member 
might rise to the highest office, which consequently offered a 
strong temptation to those of superior talents and attainments 
to attempt great things. Many persons arose to eminence 
in the church at this period, but among all none were so 
conspicuous as Thomas Wolsey, 


Wolsey was born at Ipswich, in Suffolk, in the month of 
March, 1471. His father is reported to have been a butcher, 
but this is not quite certain; it appears, however, that he pos- 
sessed some property, and that "Thomas," possessed much 
talent, and he was consequently sent to Oxford at the age of 
fifteen, when he obtained the degree of Bachelor of Arts, which 
procured him the designation of the "Boy Bachelor." Few so 
young, with all the advantages of rank and influence, attained 
in that age academical honors — his great progress in philosophy 
and other learning, having early procured for him a fellowship 
at Magdalen College. He was also appointed master of the 
school, and entrused with the education of the sons of the 
Marquis of Dorset. The proficiency which these two young 
men made under his tuition, procured him the Rectory of 
Lymington, in Somersetshire, and afterwards he was appointed 
one of the Chaplains to King Henry VIT. 

Soon after this appointment he was favourably noticed by 
Fox, Bishop of Winchester, who about that time held the Privy 
Seal, and Thomas Lovell, then Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
who thought his uncommon capacity might be useful in state 
affairs ; and, accordingly, while the treaty of marriage was 
pending between the King and Margaret, Dowager of Savoy, 
they proposed him as a fit person to be sent to her father, the 
Emperor Maximilian, on that business. His Majesty, Henry 
VII, had not before particularly noticed Wolsey, but after 
conversing with him, he was so satisfied with his qualifications, 
that he commanded him to be in readiness for the Embassy. 

The Court was then at Richmond, from which Wolsey pro- 
ceeded with his dispatches to London, where he arrived at 
four o'clock in the afternoon ; he had a boat waiting, and in 


less than three hours was at Gravesend. With post horses 
he got next morning to Dover, reached Calais in the course 
the afternoon ; and arrived the same night at the Imperial 
Court. The Emperor, informed that an extraordinary ambas- 
sador had come from England, immediately admitted him; and 
the business being agreeable, was quickly concluded. Wolsey 
then returned, and reached Calais at the opening of the gates — 
found the passengers going on board the vessel that brought 
him from England — embarked, and about ten o'clock was 
landed at Dover. He reached Richmond the same night, and 
after taking some repose, rose and met the King as he came 
from his chamber to hear the morning-service. His Majesty 
suprised at seeing him there, rebuked him for neglecting 
the orders with which he was charged ; — " May it please your 
Highness, ' ' said Wolsey/' I have been with the Emperor, and 
executed my commision to the satisfaction, I trust, of your 
Grace," he then knelt and presented Maximilian's letters. Dis- 
sembling the admiration which he felt at such unprecedented 
expedition, the King inquired if he had received no orders 
by a pursuivant who had been sent after him. Wolsey answered 
that he met the messenger as he returned: but having pre- 
conceived the purpose for which he was sent, he had presumed 
of his own accord to supply the defect in his credentials, for 
which he solicited his Majesty's pardon. Pleased with this 
foresight, and gratified with the result of the negotiation, the 
king readily forgave his temerity; and commanded him to 
attend the Council in the afternoon. Wolsey, at the time 
appointed, reported the business of his mission with so much 
clearness and propriety, that he received the applause of all 
present ; and when the Deanery of Lincoln soon after became 


vacant, it was bestowed on him by his Majesty, who, from the 
period of that embassy, continued to treat him with particular 

Such, my young friends, was the commencement of the rise of 
this great man; and from it we may learn a lesson of dispatch 
and assiduity well to follow. I have not space here to relate 
to you the life of this extraordinary man, but I can tell you 
that he rose from one place of high trust to another, till he 
had almost reached the pinnacle of human greatness. His table 
was surrounded by the wise and learned of the age ; the pomp 
and magnificence of his retinue surpassed that of the king] he 
had attained the dignity of Cardinal, and was virtually at the 
head of the Church in England ; prime political minister, and 
the chief judge of law and equity; — but all these high powers 
could not preserve him from the fall that awaited him, and it 
was for him to furnish one of the most striking instances of 
the instability of fortune, and the ingratitude of hie fellow 
men, which the whole compass of history affords. 

King Henry VIII had formed a desire to put away his first 
wife, Katherine of Arragon, and to marry Anne Boleyn. 
Wolsey was struck with alarm, and, it is said, fell on his 
knees before the King to dissuade him from his wicked design. 
The duty he owed to religion and to the church would not 
allow him to side with heresy, and therefore he was put into, 
what is called, a false position between the King on one side 
and the Pope on the other, — to both he was bound to act with 
fidelity, the service of one was contrary to the interests of the 
other — he was placed in a situation where his honesty had the 
effect of making him equally offensive to both parties ; there 
was no chance for him whatever. Of course cne so powerfu 


and at the same time so influential, had numerous enemies, 
and the ministers of Henry VIII were his bitter foesj and 
articles of impeachment were drawn up against the Cardinal, 
who was charged with superiority of talent, and surpassing 
assiduity in business — with being eloquent in discourse — liberal 
and lofty-minded. The main strength of his enemies lay in 
the House of Lords, among the nobility, the prelates, and the 
abbots, and the bill of impeachment passed this branch of 
the legislature, but in the house of Commons, Thomas Crom- 
well, who had been devoted to Wolsey, so manfully exposed, 
the absurdity of the charges, and so powerfully vindicated 
the integrity of his old master, that the Commons, to their 
immortal honor, threw out the bill as unworthy of inves- 

The impeachment having failed, the Cardinal was imme- 
diately indicted on the 16th statute of Richard III, for 
having exercised his commission as the Pope's Legate without 
the King's authority ; one of the Judges was sent to Ashur to 
to receive his answer to this shameless accusation, to whom 
Wolsey replied in a proud and melancholy spirit. He objected 
to give up York Palace as being the patrimony of the Church, 
but signified his readiness to submit to the King's power, ending 
his discourse by directing the Judge to tell the King to re- 
member that there is both a heaven and a hell. With this 
answer the Judge returned to London. 

Cromwell, who in the house of Commons had so ablydefended 
him, acted with such open and manly intrepidity in the cause 
of his deserted master, that he won the esteem of all parties. 
Being on a visit of consolation to him at Ashur, he took occa- 
sion to mention that no provision had been made, for several 


of the servants had proved very faithful, and had never 
forsaken him. "Alas" replied the Cardinal, "you know that 
I have nothing to give them, nor to reward you." Cromwell 
however prevailed upon the Cardinal's chaplain, who had been 
preferred to rich benefices by his influence, to contribute a 
little money for their relief, which he did. 

The turmoil and the anxiety of the Cardinal's mind so acted 
upon his frame that he now fell grievously sick, and his life 
was despaired of. Henry, being informed of his indisposition, 
inquired of one of the court physicians what was the matter with 
the Cardinal. On hearing it arose from indisposition, he struck 
the table violently with his hand, exclaiming, " I would rather 
lose twenty thousand pounds than he should die — make you 
haste, therefore, and endeavour to relieve him." He then took 
from his finger a ring chased, with a ruby,on which his own head 
was engraved, and sent a gentlemen with it and many kindly 
assurances to the Cardinal; and he ordered Anne Boleyn, who 
happened to be present, to send also some token of her regard, 
which she subsequently obeyed, giving the doctor a golden 
tablet from her side, and requested him to deliver from her. 
Soon after, Wolsey was regularly pardoned and replaced in the 
See of York, with a pension of a thousand marks per annum ; 
and Henry, unknown to the Privy Council, restored to him 
plate and effects to the value of six thousand pounds. This 
attention of the king revived the drooping spirits of the 
Cardinal, who went to reside at Richmond, but his enemies 
ever active, prevailed upon Henry to send him off to his diocese, 
and he was accordingly banished to York. 

He commenced his journey to York about the end of Lent, 
his train consisted of a hundred and sixty men and servants, 


and two wagons loaded with the relics of his furniture. He 
travelled slowly onward, walked in the procession of the monks 
to the cathedral at Peterboro' on Palm Sunday, kept Maunday 
Thursday by washing the feet of the poor and bestowing alms 
and blessings, he preached in the churches, judged between 
contending parties, arguing peace, forbearance, and charity 
among all men. As he drew towards York, a great multitude 
of people congregated to see him arrive, among whom were the 
clergy of the diocese, who welcomed him with the reverence 
due to his pontifical dignity. As he had never been installed 
in the archepiscopal see, the Cathedral was prepared for the 
ceremony, but, on the preceding Friday, as he was sitting at 
dinner, the Earl of Northumberland accompanied by a large 
retinue arrived at the castle, and arrested him for high treason, 
and informed him that his orders were to convey him to 
London. On his departure a great crowd assembled round 
the castle, and, as he came out on his mule guarded, the people 
began to exclaim " God save your Grace, and evil over-take 
them that have taken you from us," but the Cardinal was 
deaf to the voice of pity, he considered his destruction at 
hand, and his constitution, impaired by age and sorrow, gave 
way. One day, at dinner, he complained of a coldness in his 
stomach, and was soon after seized with a violent dysentery, 
which gradually reduced his strength. However, he obeyed the 
king's mandate — being anxious to prove his innocence before 
his accusers at a proper Court, but his illness increased, and 
on the evening of the third day of his return journey he 
approached Leicester. The appearance of nature accorded 
with the condition of the prisoner, the end of the year was 
drawing nigh, and the Cardinal beheld, for the last time, the 
falling leaf and the setting sun. g 


When the cavalcade reached the monastery, the day wa» 
drawing to a close, and, the abbot and the friars, apprised of his 
coming, waited with torches at the gate to receive him. But 
the honors of the world had ceased to afford him any pleasure ; 
and, as he passed down the stairs, he said to the brethren, 
" I am come to lay my bones among ye !" Being supported 
into a chamber, he immediately went to bed, and languished 
with increasing signs of dissolution all the next day. The 
following morning, Cavendish, his usher and afterwards 
historian, as he was watching near him, thought he perceived 
the symptoms of death. The Cardinal noticing him, inquired 
the hour, and was told eight o'clock. " That cannot be," 
he replied, "for at eight clock you shall lose your 
master. My time is at hand, and I must depart this world." 
Continuing to grow weaker and weaker, he fainted several 
times during the day. About four o'clock the following 
morning he asked for some refreshment, which having re- 
ceived, and made confession, Sir William Kingston entered his 
room and inquired how he felt himself. " Sir," said Wolsey, 
w I tarry but the pleasure of God to render up my poor soul 
into his hands." He then gave sage and good counsel to Sir 
William, and impressed upon him the duty of acting in all 
things with fidelity and honesty towards God, and said, " had 
I served God as diligently as I have done the King he would 
not have given me over in my gray hairs." " Farewell," he 
continued, " I wish all good things to have success. My time 
draws fast on. I may not continue with you. Forget not what I 
have said, and when I am gone, call it often to mind." Towards 
the conclusion he began to falter, and linger in the articulation 
of his words. At the end, his eyes became motionless, and his 
sight failed. The Abbot was summoned to administer the 


extreme unction, and the yeomen of the guard were called 
to see him die. As the clock struck eight he expired. 

The body, with the face uncovered, being laid out in 
pontifical robes, the magistrates and inhabitants of Leicester 
were permitted to see it, in order that they might certify the 
death. In the evening it was removed into the church, but 
the funeral service was protracted by unusual dirges and 
orisons, and it was past midnight before the interment took 
place. Such was the end of this proud and famous Cardinal ; 
who, for a subject, had more of the pomp and glory of this 
world than any man who ever lived — few have been thrown 
down from so great a height with so few crimes. He cannot 
be reproached with anything mean, vile, malicious, cruel, or 
vindictive. He was a character of the most splendid class — 
superior as a statesman to any of his contemporaries. He was 
haughty to the haughty — proud to the proud. Stern and 
unbending to those who loved him not — but to those who 
showed him respect, " sweet as summer ! " All his under- 
takings showed the foreseeing facilities of his genius. It was 
he who, more than any other man, laid the foundation of those 
maxims of prudence, which, in our own day, among all European 
States, restrict the domination of the Pope. My young friends 
cannot do better than to study at large the history of 
this justly celebrated man. They will find in it much to exalt 
their minds and to touch their hearts, and they will rise 
from their perusal of his memoir wiser and better children. 
Those wretched people who like to contemplate the little 
blemishes of the most illustrious characters, will see in the 
errors of Wolsey much to condemn. But more generous 
minds will look upon them as " specks upon a sun," whose 
rays enlightened and benefited the world. g 2 

%n %hk\xt\m Iwtjj a *%m. 

t- EARS are very funny fellows, some- 
times,, particularly the " Brown 
Bears." All Black Bears are 
savage ; the White Bears are 
melancholy and spiteful, but the 
Brown Bears give, at times, the 
oddest sport, and make us laugh 
the most. I remember well, upon my travelling 
from Moscow to St. Petersburgh, seeing some 
fun with one, and I can't help telling it to my 
young readers. 

The road from Moscow to St. Petersburg is dreary 
enough ; long wastes of ground stretching far away — straight 
roads without hedges or ditches — clumps of trees here 
and there — savage-looking dens, and as savage-looking men 
— rude hovels not fit for pigs to stop in — women not half so 
clean as the pigs in Mr. Bendall's styes — and rough old chaps, 
with beards so rough, hard, and bristly, that you might make 
shoe-brushes of them. These are the characteristics of the 
Russian peasantry, and when, therefore, we talk of bears, we 



talk of gentlemen — polite, generous but determined, and not 
very ceremonious gentlemen ; of one of these it is my object 
to speak. 

I was, as I said, travelling from Moscow to St. Peters- 
burgh. I had with me my friend Bendall, as good a shot as 


ever hit a rabbit in a sley, and as good a hunter as ever 
hunted a donkey on a cross-road. We had travelled many 
miles o?er morass and heath, and through the ugliest roads 
in Christendom. Sometimes we travelled for a whole day 
without meeting with a house or hovel of any kind, and on 
the day that the adventure took place I am about to describe, 
we had travelled till night-fall without any probability 
of shelter for the night ; so, at last, thinking that we could do 
no better, we crept into a cave, with the intention of passing 
the night there, We were rather surprised, when we had 
stricken a light, to find a great lot of bones strewn about, 
all of them picked very clean, and some of them very old ; and, 
as Bendall remarked, " we were in a Bear's den " — his own 
parlor, drawing room, kitchen, and cookery, and a very warm 
snug place it seemed, not over nice as to smell, but quite 
sheltered from wind and tempest. So we struck a light, lit 
a fire, and prepared to make ourselves comfortable with one 
" sausage," the only thing we had to munch that night. We put 
it on the fire, and it had not long begun to grill and grizzle, be- 
fore something dark moved before the entrance of the cave. 
Bendall was after it directly, with his gun cocked ; and I held 
up a lighted brand to see what would come next. It was a rough 
old Brown Bear, of very large size, who seemed by no means 
pleased at our invasion of his domestic hearth. He stood, 
with his nose poked out, savagely looking at us, as much as 
to say : " what do you here, you blackguards ? " Bendall see- 
ing this insolent speech in the bear's eyes, pulled the trigger — 
flash — .but no bang — the gun missed fire ! and, in a moment, 
the old brute, as if he knew that he was likely to have all his 
own way, made a leap at me with the agility of a young rabbit. 



I had only just time to pop the fire-brand in his mouth — which 
made him howl for a moment — and then, with redoubled 
savageness, he flew upon me, and embraced me with such a 
hug, that I seemed to feel my ribs cracking, and all the 
breath squeezing out of my body. I laid hold of the bear's 
throat, and tried to squeeze him and stop his breath ; but 
his hair was so thick and shaggy I could make but little 
impression upon him ; and so he squeezed, and I squeezed ; 
now we rolled — now we tumbled — sometimes Parley was up — 
sometimes Bear; and then we rolled over and over again. Poor 
Bendall looked on with consternation ; he had again primed 
his piece, but was afraid to lire lest he should hit and settle 
me. At last we tumbled and tumbled, till we both rolled 
into the fire. Upon this Bruin let go of me, and leaped to 
a great distance, and began capering about in fine style; 
the pain of the burnings being, no doubt, very teasing — 

I know mine were. " Now is your time, Bendall," said I. 
So Bendall would have fired, but his gun again missed; 
upon which the old bear made towards me again, pawing out 



with his fore feet, and standing on his hind ones, while I, 
in the same attitude, waited his approach. But Bendall, 
finding his gun of no use one way, determined to try its ser- 
vice in another ; and advancing boldly in front of me, dealt 
Bruin such a blow with the butt-end, that he rolled him over 
like a Dutch-cheese. At the same moment I whipped out 
my knife, and made a hole in the Bear's body ; while Bendall 
gave him another topper " for luck " — and Bruin was done 
for. The whole affair was most ludicrous, but almost too 
serious a joke. It however ended by our having some of the 
bear's haunch for our supper. And I can tell you, my young 
friends, that bear's haunch is most delicious eating. 

Something about f f |%i^ 

LIGHTHOUSES were in use with the aneients. The 
towers of Sestos and Abydos, the Colossus of Rhodes, 
and the well-known tower in the island of Pharos, off Alex- 
andria, are examples. Suetonius also mentions a lofty tower 
at Ostia, and another on the coast of Batavia, erected for the 
purpose of guiding the mariners by night. In lighting a great 
extent of coast, it becomes necessary to provide for the dis- 
tribution of lighthouses in such a manner, that they may 
be readily distinguished from each other, and, at the same 
time, so disposed, as not to leave vessels without some point 
by which to direct their course. 

One of the most extraordinary lighthouses on our iron- 
bound coast, stands on a reef of rocks called the Eddystone, 
in the English Channel, about ten miles from the Land's End, 
in Cornwall. It was erected by Mr. Smeaton, in 1759, and 
still remains a lasting monument of his scientific skill. It 
consists of four rooms, surmounted by a gallery and lanthorn. 
The floors are of stone, flat on the surface, but concave 
beneath, and are kept from pressing against the sides of the 
building, by means of a chain which is let into the walls. The 
entire edifice is about eighty feet in height, and yet, such is 
the immense power of the wind in the neighbourhood of the 



rocks, that the waves are seen to ascend like a cupola, consi- 
derably above the lanthorn at the top. The appearance of this 
is truly wonderful and sublime. 

Another celebrated lighthouse is called the Bell Rock 
Lighthouse, which stands on the coast of Scotland, near 
Arbroath, in Forfarshire. These rocks have always been 
particularly dangerous for shipping, and when the commerce 
of Scotland was very much less than at the time of the erec- 
tion of the lighthouse, it is said that the monks of the Abbey 
of Arbroath erected a bell on the rock, which was rung by 
machinery during the flowing and ebbing of the tide. About 
the year 1807, the present noble specimen of what man can 
accomplish, was commenced. The work was completed in 
1811, under the direction of Mr. Stevenson, and reflects the 


highest honor upon his professional skill. The difficulties 
that had to be overcome were of the most embarassing des- 
cription. At the commencement of the work, in consequence 
of the short time the rock was not covered with water, two or 
three hours were considered a good tide's work, and, frequently 
after a portion of the foundation had been completed, a sudden 
storm would render it necessary to perform the same labour 
twice over, and even oftener. On one occasion, Mr. Stevenson 
and the men who were with him at work were exposed to 
great danger, in consequence of the vessel that used to carry 
them from the rock having broken from her moorings, 
and the tide at the same time commencing its rise. They 
were, fortunately however, saved by a small boat, which 
happened to bring Mr. Stevenson some papers relating to the 
lighthouse at the time. 

The form of the lighthouse is that of an immense pillar ; 
the lower courses of stones are trenailed and wedged to- 
gether with oak timber, to the height of upwards of forty 
feet, or throughout the solid part of the building. At the 
stone staircase leading from the door to the first floor, the 
walls are seven feet thick, and from this it gradually de- 
creases upwards. The stones of the walls of the several 
apartments are connected at the ends with dove-tailed joints. 
The floors are formed of long stones radiating from the 
centre, and set in such a manner that the pressure of the 
floors upon the walls is perpendicular. In the stranger's 
room or library, the roof takes an arched form, but the 
centre is cut only upon the interior end of the stones of the 
cornice, the several stones of which it is composed being all 
laid upon level beds. 


In order to give a slight idea of the force this lighthouse 
has to withstand, we may quote the following remarks from 
Mr. Stevenson. He says: — "It is awfully grand, at the 
time of high water, to observe the spray rising on the 
building, and even to be on the rock at low water, when 
the waves are about to break. Being, in a manner, only a 
few yards distant, they approach as if they were about to 
overwhelm us altogether. But, now that we are accustomed 
to such scenes, we think little of it. You will, perhaps, 
form a better idea of the force of these gales, when I relate 
to you that, on the 15 th of February, the large piece of 
lead which was used as a tack weight of the balance crane 
weighing nearly five hundred pounds, was fairly lifted by 
the sea and carried to the distance of six feet from the hole 
in which it had laid since the month of August. It was 
found turned round, with the ring-bolt downwards, and it 
was with great difficulty that four of us could muster 
strength enough to move it. 

There are many other lighthouses upon our coast. That 
at the Land's End is a very fine one, as is that at Or ford 
and Yarmouth Sound. Of late years a new mode of building 
lighthouses has been in operation, and of this I shall say a 
few words. 

Perhaps no class of persons are exposed to greater dangers 
than seamen. They have to contend, not only against the 
elements, when all around them is a barren waste of waters, 
but, no sooner are they gladdened by the sight of land, than 
their perils are increased to a much greater extent. In the 
former case, the wind was, perhaps, the only danger they 
might have to provide against, but approaching land they 


must take care to avoid sunken rocks and sand-banks, -which 
might be the cause of their destruction. Upon rocks and 
the solid coasts, lighthouses have been erected with com- 
parative ease (as we have already stated), but, upon sands, 
the erection of them is very difficult ; and was, till within 
these few years, considered to be almost insurmountable. 
Floating lights, which are large lanthorns suspended in the 
rigging of a vessel, or built up in the hull, are frequently 
used to illuminate a sandy coast, full of shoals and sand- 
banks — but these are subject to many inconveniences, by 
the pitching and rolling of the vessel — for every now and 
then she is partially submerged in the trough of the sea, 
covered with spray and drift ; or, what is most to be dreaded, 
she is liable to be blown away from her moorings — an acci- 
dent productive of the most disastrous consequences to life 
and property; for should such a catastrophe happen, the 
ships sailing along a coast having nothing to warn them 
of their danger, run upon the shoals or sand-banks, and are 
frequently totally wrecked, and all traces of them lost, in 
the course of a very few hours. 

Such being the case, the attention of Engineers has for 
some time been directed to the best means for overcoming 
this difficulty. The building of a house upon a rock has ever 
been considered the proof of wisdom, whilst the erection of it 
on the sands has been held the proof of folly. But the 
advances of science prove that a house may be built even 
upon the sands, when proper care is taken in its construction 
— and the erection of lighthouses on this foundation is held 
to be a triumph in engineering. 

This remarkable result has been accomplished chiefly by 


means of Mitchell's screw mooring, which consists of an im- 
mense screw, very similar to that of the corkscrew, with flat 
cutting spirals. It is a spiral or screw round a cast-iron 
spindle, having a square head, upon which a large key is 
placed (like the key of a watch), and the screw is turned by 
enormous leverage, and it is then forced into the ground, 
and can be carried to a great depth. This instrument was 
thought to be applicable to the establishment of Lighthouses 
upon sands; and, accordingly, a series of experiments was 
undertaken, and a lighthouse was speedily erected on the 
verge of the Maplin Sand, situated at the mouth of the 
Thames, about twenty miles below the Nore. The founda- 
tion was formed of seven screw piles, six occupying the six 
angles of a hexagon, and the seventh being placed in the 
centre. From each screw proceeded a pile fifteen feet m 
length, at the upper end of which was another screw for 
securing a wooden column. These columns were prepared 
of Baltic timber : the one in the centre was fifty-six feet, and 
each of the remainder forty-six feet in length, firmly bound 
together with iron hoops, and coated with pitch. 

The platform upon which the house stands is firmly 
secured round the centre column, and to the heads of the 
outer columns by means of hollow cast-iron capitals let 
down on the heads of the columns, and secured with screw 
bolts. To give lateral strength to the building, round iron 
angle traces were applied, by which means a resisting power, 
equal to at least three-hundred- and-fifty tous is presented 
in every direction. 

The platform upon which the house stands is twenty- 
seven feet in diameter and nine feet high ; it has an outside 


door and three windows, and is divided into two apartments 
— one having a fire-place. The floor is tiled, and the walls 
are ceiled, lathed, and stuccoed ; access to the platform is 
secured by means of a Jacob's ladder to one of the columns. 
From the summit of the house rises the lanthorn : it is twelve 
sided, and is ten feet in feet in diameter and eight feet high. 
The light is elevated about forty-six feet above low water 
level, and is bright, steady, and uniform — ranging over an 
horizon of eight miles and visible at the distance of ten miles 
from a coaster's deck. During foggy weather a bell is tolled 
by machinery. Tide time for vessels of twelve feet draught 
is also denoted by signals. 

This admirable and useful structure was erected in two of 
the shortest day months of the year, during which time day- 
light did not occur at any low water period ; the workmen, 
therefore, had to depend upon torches and moonlight ; and 
what is quite as extraordinary, it can be taken down and 
erected on another site in a month, should circumstances 
render it necessary. 

%\t ©to %$t$ m € wito of ditfljaitj. 

I N a former chapter I mentioned 
something about Old Abbeys. I 
am now about to say something con- 
cerning the Old Castles of England, 
for few things are more interesting 
to young people than the stories 
connected with them. There is scarcely any part of England 
but has ruins of old castles ; some of these ruins are very 


picturesque, and, when we look at them, the mind is carried 
back to the times of superstition — of religious bondage — of 
knighthood and chivalry — and of intestine war. Happily, 
these times are gone for ever, and we now enjoy peace, 
freedom, and religious happiness, such as ancient times never 
did, and never could produce ; and we ought to be grateful 
to Almighty God that we live in such blessed times. 

According to Dr. Johnson, a Castle is a strong house forti- 
fied, but this gives little more information than the saying, 
according to law, "Every man's house is his castle." A 
Castle, properly so called, is a fortress or fortification of stone, 
surrounded by high and thick walls of defence, with different 
walls and lines of circumvallation, consisting of the Barbican, 
the Moat, the wall of the outer Ballium, the outer Ballium, 
the Artificial Mount, the wall of the inner Ballium, the inner 
Ballium, and the Keep or Dungeon. 

The Barbican, was a watch-tower for the purpose of des- 
crying the approach of a distant enemy. It seems to have 
had no positive place, except that it was always an outwork, 
and frequently advanced beyond the ditch, to which it was 
joined by a draw-bridge, and formed the entrance into the 

The Ditch, which was also called the moat or fosse, was 
sometimes filled with water, when any convenient stream 
could be turned into it, at other times it was dry and deep, 
and, when this was the case, there were subterranean passages 
underneath, by which the soldiers could pass out and sud- 
denly break ground into the open country, and astonish the 
invading forces. This wall of the outer Ballium was within 
the Ditch on the castle side. The wall was usually high, 




flanked with towers, and had a parapet, embattled, crenella- 
ted, or garretted, for mounting it. 

The outer Ballium was the space or ground within the 
'mter wall. In the Ballium were lodgings or barracks for 
the garrison and artificers, wells for water, and sometimes 
a monastery. An artificial mound, commanding the adjacent 
country, was often thrown up in the Ballium, and from this 
the soldiers and archers would throw their missiles upon the 

The wall of the inner Ballium separated it from the outer 
Ballium. The inner Ballinm was a second enclosed space or 
ground. When a castle had an inner Ballium — which was 
not always the case — it contained the buildings before-men- 
tioned as being within the Ballium. 

The Keep, or Dungeon, commonly, but not always, stood 
on an eminence in the centre ; sometimes it was, emphatically, 
called the Tower. It was the Citadel, or last retreat of the 
garrison, and was generally a high, square tower of four or 
five stories, having turrets at each angle, with staircases in the 
turrets. The walls of these edifices were always of an extra- 
ordinary thickness, which enabled them to exist longer than 
other buildings; and they are now almost the only remains 
of our ancient castle s. 

In the Keep or Dungeon, the Lord, or Governor, had his 
state-rooms, which were little better thau gloomy cells, with 
chinks or embrasures diminishing inwards, from which arrows 
from long or cross-bows might be discharged against besiegers. 
Some Keeps, especially those of small castles, had not even 
these conveniences, but were solely lighted by a small perfor- 
a:.on at the top. The different stories were frequently 


vaulted ; sometimes they were only separated by joists. On 
the top of the Keep, was usually a platform, with an embat- 
tled parapet, from whence the Govenor could see and com- 
mand the exterior works. 

Castles were designed for residences as well as defence. 
According to some writers, the ancient Britons had castles of 
stone ; but they were few in number, and either decayed or 
so much destroyed, through neglect or invasions, that, at the 
time of the Norman Conquest, little more than their ruins re < 
mained. The Conqueror erected and restored many castles ; 
and on the lands parcelled out to his followers they erected 
castles all over the country. These edifices greatly multi- 
plied in turbulent and unsettled times ; and, towards the reign 
of Stephen, they amounted to the almost incredible number 
of eleven hundred and fifteen. 

As the Feudal system strengthened, castles became the 
heads of baronies. Each castle had a Manor, and the Cas- 
tellain, Owner, or Governor was the Lord of the Manor. Mar- 
kets or fairs were held in them to prevent frauds in the King's 
duties or customs, and there his laws were enforced, until the 
Lords usurped the regal power, not only within their castles 
but the environs, and exercised civil and criminal jurisdiction, 
coined money, and even seized forage and provisions for the 
garrisons. Their oppressions grew so high, that, according 
to William of Newbury, there were as many kings, or rather 
tyrants, as lords of castles; and these lords of castles not 
only oppressed and despoiled their weaker neighbours, but 
exercised even royal privileges. Henry II., therefore, stip- 
ulated for the destruction of many of them, and prevented 
the erection of others, except by royal license. 

h 2 


The materials with which castles were built varied accor- 
ding to the places of their erection ; but the manner of 
building seems to have been pretty uniform. The outsides 
of the walls generally consisted of stones near at hand ; the 
insides were filled up with fragments of stone, or sometimes 
chalk, and a large supply of fluid mortar. When the Nor- 
mans found the remains of an ancient building on a site which 
suited them, they often added their out- work, thus having 
a mixed piece of architecture of a Norman and Saxon Order, 
with, not unfrequently, a quantity of Roman bricks. 

According to Camden, who gives an account of the taking 
of Bedford Castle, in his Britannia :— " The castle," he says, 
" was taken by four assaults. In the first was taken the Bar- 
bican ; in the second the outer bail (Ballium) ; at the third 
attack, the wall by the old tower was thrown down by the 
miners, where, with great danger, they possessed themselves 
of the inner bail through a chink ; at the fourth assault, the 
miners set fire to the tower, so that the smoke burst out, and 
the tower itself was cloven to that degree as to show visibly 
some broad chinks ; whereupon the enemy surrendered/' 

Castles in process of time, soon became of little use as for- 
tresses ; the change in the art of war, brought about by the 
invention of gunpowder, the influence of our navy, and the 
abolishment of the feudal system, all tended to diminish the 
importance of these ancient safeguards ; and, with the pro- 
gress of civilization and national improvement, we trace the 
gradual change in the construction of castles, till, by the ad- 
mission of light and air, and some degree of ornament, the 
harsh and gloomy features of the massive Norman pile be- 
came softened down into the refined and comfortable aspect 


of the castellated house in the reign of Henry VIII. and 

In the reign of Charles I., however, shortly before the civil 
war, and probably with the prospects of the awful events 
which followed in view, a commission was appointed to inquire 
into the state of the ancient castles. Many of these, during 
the subsequent troubles, were garrisoned and defended. Not 
a few were afterwards destroyed by order of the parliament, 
and others were left to the ravages of time and the weather. 
Some of these monuments of barbaric grandeur have been 
torn down for the sake of the materials, or for the purpose of 
building on the same site. 

Although a view of the generality of these rugged fortresses 
— destined chiefly for the purposes of war or defence — sug- 
gests to the imagination, dungeons, chains, and a painful 
assemblage of horrors, yet some of them were often the scenes 
of magnificence and hospitality, where, in the days of chiv- 
alry, the wandering Knight or distressed Princess found 
honourable reception, the holy Palmer repose for his wearied 
limbs, and the poor and helpless men daily bread. 

Having here given a general description of Castles, I shall, 
in a future chapter, afford my young readers accounts of some 
particular Castles, especially those which have historical inci- 
dents connected with them. 

€{jt fnttn at £p%afr: frimfo of % JfM, 

ETER PARLEY loves our good 
Queen, and delights to follow her 
in her various " progresses " — for 
wherever she appears, light and 
happiness beams around. The sun 
seems to welcome her wherever she 
goes, and bright and fair are the 
days that belong to her. And one 
of the brightest and fairest days, 
notwithstanding a little cloud or so that appeared, was the 
day when Her Majesty, accompanied by the Prince — whom 
every true Briton loves for his manly character, and for the 
good he does to every one — proceeded to visit the British 
EJeet at Spithead. It was delightful for old Peter to behold 
the Queen and the Prince, and not less so to see the young 
Prince of Wales emulating the British Tar, and looking like 
an embryo Nelson : and his heart beat with ardour at the 
cheers of the sailors and the booming of the guns ; and he 
wished himself a young man again, and on board of a man- 
of-war, as he was for many years of his early life. I believe 
that no one who has been thoroughly soused in salt 


water ever ceases to love it, and although poor old Peter has 
now only a pleasure-boat to skull and row and sail about the 
Deben in, he still loves the sea-breeze and the sea-water, and 
the smell of tar ; and he likes to hear the whistle of the gale 
in the shrouds, and the cry of the sea-gull, and the voice of 
the curlew on the ooze ; and he would sing with his poor old 
voice, like a shattered clarionet of former days, " Rule Britan- 
nia," and thank God that he has lived to see the dav when 
England exhibits to the world that she is still able to " rule 
the waves." 

The "review" was, indeed, a spirit-stirring sight. The 
eyes of half London and the hearts of all England were 
there ; and a wonderful thing it was to look upon a fleet such 
as England never had before, and the thick black cloud of 
coal-smoke resting upon the horizon, or ascending to the 
skies in volumes, shewed the result of the innumerable appli- 
cations of the giant power of steam to the purposes of navi- 
gation. Here stood arrayed the mighty force of fourteen- 
thousand-four-hundred-and-twenty horse-power, concentrated 
in the holds of the royal ships, impelling these mountain 
masses with as much ease as some of my young readers 
would drag their little boat across a puny pond. 

The most remarkable fact, bearing on this point, was the 
celerity and ease with which the Duke of Wellington, the 
greatest of all the ships, the Agamemnon, and the Imperieuse 
— each of them steam impelled — performed their evolutions. 
The chase, when each ship put forth all her powers, was just 
continued long enough to establish the superiority of these 
ships. They are moved by screw-propellers, and all the steam 
machinery in such large ships is placed beneath the water- 


line, and below the reach of shot. The ships can steam at 
pleasure against wind and tide, and thus, really and not 
metaphorically " rule the waves," and a steam fleet of eleven 
hundred guns, such as that we witnessed at Portsmouth, 
would go far to rule the world. 

The Queen, the Prince, and the Royal Family arrived in 
the " Victoria and Albert " yacht, and a grand salute from 
all the ships was fired in succession, and so quickly was it 
given, that from the firing of the first gun to the booming of 
the last, not more than three minutes elapsed. As Her 
Majesty approached the fleet, the Queen and Prince Albert 
mounted the bridge of the yacht over the paddle-boxes, and 
with the Prince of Wales, and Prince Alfred — both attired 
as sailors, in white duck trowsers and jackets — surveyed the 
scene before them with much interest. Her Majesty then 
entered the royal barge, and with the Prince, and the Royal 
Children, all went on board the " Duke of Wellington," as 
you see them represented in the engraving. The fleet now 
steamed out to sea in double column. They formed 
into single line. They then made a feigned attack upon the 
enemy. After firing a gun or two of defiance, the three fore- 
most ships resolutely advanced, upon which the two divisions 
closed into one grand line, and upon the signal gun of the 
" Duke of Wellington/' followed by the tremendous roar of 
her whole broadside, rapidly discharged from stem to stern, 
the rattling thunder ran along the line, traversing it as it were 
in a minute, and again beginning at the other end; main and 
deck guns, eighteens, thirty-twos, and sixty-fours, banging 
and thundering for nearly a quarter of an hour without inter- 
mission. From the moment of the first discharge, the clouds 




of white, choking smoke hid everything. The mimic battle 
was kept up for some time, at last the enemy was supposed 
to have been repulsed, so the heads of the vessels were put 
round, and the whole squadron started oif homewards at the 
best of each ship's speed, and the same thundering followed. 

A boat attack was next made, which was fully equal in 
interest to the " sham fight of the ships/' and the whole day's 
proceedings exhibited " Old England " in her proudest glory ; 
and thus terminated a spectacle, which no other country in 
the world could produce but England, and which well accords 
with English spirit and English sympathy. 

Jmnetjntj afarat % Cjjihtese. 

THE Chinese are, my young friends, a 
very wonderful people — quite unlike 
the people in any other part of the world. 
They are very different in their religion, 
\l laws, manners and customs; and were you 
\l to go and live in China, you would be 
puzzled to know what to do, and how to 
act. My friend, Mr. Welton, however, 
who has just sent over to his native place a 
beautiful collection of Chinese curiosities, 
seems to know how to get on very well ; 
and from his letters, and the specimens of 
Chinese literature, art, and manufactures, 
it will not be a very difficult thing to 
obtain some slight knowledge of the Chinese. 

China is the most populous country in the world; it is 
supposed to contain at least two hundred and fifty millions of 
human beings. Of these, more than two millions live in 
boats on the rivers, and a very large number have been 
enrolled as soldiers. At the present moment, China is under- 
going a great revolution (of which I shall have something to 
say before I have done), and the religion of Jesus Christ is 


making progress. The end of this will probably be the 
opening of the whole of the Chinese empire to European 
commerce, which will be of great advantage to the whole 

No country abounds like China in towns and cities, which 
in some of the provinces are so thick and close to each other, 
that the whole seems but one continued town swarming with 
inhabitants. Their roads are generally crowded with passen- 
gers. Some cities are purely military, and are inhabited 
by soldiers, of which there are said to be not less than five 
millions in the empire. 

The most wonderful things in China are the canals, 
especially the Great Canal, as it is called, which is an unin- 
terrupted communication of nearly seven hundred miles of 
water, between Pekin and the great central stream of the 
Yang-tse-Kiang. In connection with the rivers, it opens a 
communication between Canton and Pekin, by means of a 
thousand miles of navigation. 

The Great Wall of China has always been considered one 
of the wonders of the world. It was erected three hundred 
years before Christ. It is in length one thousand miles, 
and it passes over hills, vallies, rivers, and mountains 
which are in some places more than five thousand feet high. 
Its height is thirty feet, and it is very broad. The towers, 
which are at short distances from each other, are forty feet 
high. This Wall is no longer of much use as a fortification, 
and is now regarded more as a curiosity. The mass of 
materials used in its construction would be sufficient to build 
a thick wall, six feet in height, all round the globe. China 
is also famous for triumphal arches, erected to the memory 



of their heroes ; it is said that there are from six hundred to 
seven hundred in the empire. It is customary for persons 
travelling to pay their adoration at these arches, as well as 


at the tombs of their ancestors, whom they regard with the 
greatest veneration. 

Most of the Chinese cities have large bells set up in their 
high towers, by which notice is given of the different watches 
of the night. The first watch is denoted by a single stroke ; 
the second, by two ; the third, by three ; and so on. Some 
of the Chinese bells are very large, and weigh upwards of 
one hundred thousand pounds. Their clappers are of wood 
and not of metal — the former being thought to give a softei 

The city of Pekin has been the fixed capital of China ever 
since the expulsion of the Moguls ; and, although situated 
on the Northern confines of China Proper, it is central with 



regard to the whole empire. It is surrounded by a wall, 
flanked with high towers, each containing accommodation for 
a hundred men. Within this wall are the Emperor's 
palace and gardens. These are surrounded by another wall, 
the enclosure being called the Sacred City. The two cities 
are not less than twenty-five miles in circumference. 

The Imperial Palace is situated in the heart of the city, 
and has a prodigious number of courts, squares, ponds, parks, 
and edifices. The apartments are spacious and healthy, 
and the whole is adorned with gardens, baths, and pleasure 
terraces. There, is, in the midst of one of the principal 
gardens, an artificial lake of about a mile in extent, 
surrounded by stately trees, and gorgeous temples, and fine 

The Great Hall of Audience is a lofty building, one 
hundred and thirty feet long, and nearly of a square form. 
Its ceiling is of carved work, garnished with green, and 
adorned with gilt dragons in bas-relief. The pillars which 



support the roof are about seven feet in circumference, and 
are embellished with raised works of fruits and flowers. 
The pavement is covered with a rich carpet ; the walls are 
polished white, and without hangings, mirrors, or any kind 
of ornament. The throne stands in the centre of the hall, 

and consists of a lofty alcove, but has few ornaments or 
inscriptions ; it, however, bears the words " Reason's glory," 
the name assumed by the present Emperor. 

The Great Temple of the Chinese, or of Pekin, is a very 
curious edifice — not merely on account of its riches and 
grandeur, but from its being the scene of a very important 
ceremony, performed by the Emperor every year, when the 
sun enters the winter solstice ; hence it is termed the 
Temple of the Sun. The temple stands about half-a-mile 
from the east end of the city, and is surrounded by a wall 
nearly a mile in circuit. Within this enclosure are reared 
several stately apartments, amid groups of lofty trees, and in 
the centre a spacious round hall, of a considerable height. 
The dome or roof is supported by eighty-two columns, 



curiously painted with gold and azure, representing the sky. 
At an upper part of the temple stands a very large vessel of 
brass, in which perfumes are burned ; and on each side of it 
stand the priests. To this temple the Emperor repairs at the 
proper season, and, in a homely garb, without gold, or jewels, 
or even the yellow garment that denotes royalty— kneels 
down in adoration, and offers up his prayers for the sins of 
the people, and prays the Divine Being to give happiness and 
prosperity to the nation at large. 

MwmM till 'I 'i 

In another temple, called the Temple of the Earth, which 
is without the walls of the city, a ceremony is performed 
by every Emperor, on coming to the throne, equally worthy 


of description. Immediately after the coronation, the 
Emperor comes with regal pomp to this temple, which stands 
on the west side of the city. As soon as he passes the walls 
of the city, he divests himself of his imperial robes, and 
clothes himself in the habit of a common ploughman; and 
in this humble guise proceeds, with his numerous retinue, 
to a spot of ground kept for the purpose within the compass 
of the temple. Here he finds a plough, gilt and ornamented 
with gold, to which two oxen with golden horns are fastened, 
and, taking the plough in his hand, he drives it to the extent 
of two or three furrows. "Whilst at this laborious exercise, 
the Empress, attended by her ladies, prepares some plain dish 
for his dinner, and brings it to him into his private apartment, 
in the most homely style, and sits and eats with him. 

This excellent custom is of Chinese origin, and of great 
antiquity. Its design is to put the new monarch in mind 
that his revenue is owing to the sweat and labour of his 
subjects, and that he ought to abstain from all superfluous 
expenses, and ease them of all unnecessary burdens. 

The Chinese are great lovers of festivals, and one of their 
principal entertainments of this kind is celebrated during 
the eighth moon. From sunset and the rising of the moon 
till midnight, every one walks about with his relatives and 
friends in the streets, public places, and gardens. In the 
preceding days they send to each other tarts and cakes, called 
yua-pini, that is, cakes of the moon ; they are round and 
flat, and made to resemble that luminary. These cakes are 
eaten by moonlight — the wealthy to the sound of melodious 
music, and the poor to the din of drums, gongs, and other 
noisy instruments. 



The engraving represents a dealer in confectionary of this 
kind ; the cakes are flat, and the hares, which are one of the 
chief of their ornaments, are either sitting on their haunches, 
or lying down eating. One of the cakes in the upper row is 
adorned with peacock's feathers, between which is placed a 
figure of the moon, on which is the representation of a hare 
pounding rice. 

Fruit is sold by hawkers, and men who sit at a table in 
the open air. The picture shows the way in which fruit is 
hawked in baskets, suspended from the ends of a bamboo, 
which is borne on one shoulder. The baskets of this trader 
are stocked with various kinds of fruit. The melons, one of 

i 2 



which is seen in the picture, are water-melons ; there are 
besides grapes, white and red figs, and peaches. This latter 
fruit the Chinese regard as the emblem of immortality. 
In the abode of Hien Grien, which is their paradise, they 
imagine a peach-tree, the fruit of which secures all those 
who eat of it from death. 

The other Chinese fruits are apricots, cherries, lemons, and 
oranges, which are grown in the gardens of the country people ; 
they also eat the young shoots of the fragrant ash, the 
flowers of the yulong, and the soft shoots of the juicy-bam- 
boo. The leaf which the itinerant fruit-seller holds, is that of 
the " nelumbriem," an aquatic plant, the canes of which some- 
times grow large enough for an umbrella. The engraving 



represents a retail dealer in fruit, sitting at his stall, in the 
shade of an ample umbrella made of rushes. 

The middle classes of the Chinese live upon pork, venison, 
and shark-fins. Horse-flesh is eaten by the Tartars, and 
sold in the markets with beef. Cats, too, are a favourite 
dish, and dogs are the crowning delicacy of the cookery- 

The Chinese towns swarm with hawkers of all sorts, and 
among the most numerous are the flower-sellers. They carry 
their flowers about in two flat baskets, suspended like a pair 
of scales from the two ends of a bamb oo. The flowers com- 
mon to China are, many of them, now common with us. The 



plant for which they have the strongest liking is the peony, 
which they call " moutein." It is also called the " king of 
flowers/' and "pe-lean-king," which means one hundred ounces 

of gold ' on account of its beauty, and of the enormous price 
given for it by the curious. 

The Chinese, as I have said, eat cats and dogs. They also 
eat snakes and vipers : the former for food, the latter for 
physic. The Chinese are very dexterous in catching these 
animals, and they will also play various tricks with them. 
It is no unusual tiling to see a Chinaman put a viper in his 
mouth, and ask a bye-stander to pull it out by its tail. Hers 



is a picture of a viper-seller; the board in his hand contains 
a list of his reptiles. 

The engraving in the next page is the representation of a 
Chinese barber. He goes from house to house, carrying with 
him his instruments — a stool, a small furnace, water, razors, 
brushes. The barbers are also ready to shampoo a customer, 
if the state of his health require it. The mode of shampooing 
in China has been thus described: — " First," said my 
informant, "the shampooer placed me in a large chair, and 
then began to beat me with both hands very fast, upon all 
parts of my body. He next stretched out my arms and legs, 
and gave them several sudden pulls ; he then got my arm on 
his shoulder, and hauled me sideways a good way off the 



chair, giving my head at the same time a sudden switch or 
jerk, almost enough to pull my neck out of joint. Next he 
beat with the ends of his fingers very softly and very quickly, 
all over my body and legs, every now and then cracking my 
fingers. Then he stroked my ears, temples, and eye-lashes. 
After this he began to scrape, pick and syringe my ears, every 

now and then working with an instrument close to them. 
The next things were my eyes, into which several small in- 
struments were thrust. He then proceeded to paring, scra- 
ping, and cleansing the nails of my fingers and toes, and then 
cutting my corns. For all this he only charged the sum of 
one penny/' 



The Chinese are very fond of fishing, and although they 
are not so scientific in throwing a line as Albert Smith, still 
they manage to get the fish somehow — indeed fishing is very 
common in China. The waters of the rivers contain a great 
number of fish unknown to us, one of which is called the flour- 
fish, on account of its whiteness, and is very delicious eating. 
The hoang-zy, or yellow fish, sometimes grows to such a size, 
as to weigh 800 lbs. 

When* a Chinaman goes fishing lie takes with him his nets 
and lines : but he has some other very ingenious methods of 
catching fish, especially by the employment of the fishing- cor- 
morant ; and when he goes out for a day's sport, he usually 



takes with him ten or twelve of these birds, either in light 
boats, or on bamboo rafts. The cormorant is taught to pursue 
fish in the same manner as the falcon does game. The 
fishermen beat the water strongly with one of their oars, which 
serves as a signal to the birds, and they instantly plunge into 
the water, and swallow in as many fish as they can get ; they 
then repair immediately to the boat, each conveying a large 
fish in the middle of its bill. To prevent the small fish from 
passing into the stomach of the bird, a ring is commonly put 
round its neck to confine its gullet, which is long and capable 
of great expansion. To make it disgorge the fish which it 
has swallowed, the fisherman holds the bird with its head 
downwards, and strokes its head with his hand. Some are 

so well trained as to have no 
occasion for the ring. They bring 
their prey honestly to their master, 
and when they have caught as 
much he wants, he allows them to 
fish for themselves. 

The Chinese are equally as ex- 
pert in catching; birds 
catching fish 

catching wild ducks is exceedingly 
curious and very amusing. The 
sportsman covers his head with 
the half of a large hollow gourd or 
dry calabash, in which he makes 
holes, to enable him to see and 
breathe; he then walks naked into 
the water, or swims about in such 

fe ^ iU o as in 
Their method of 



a manner that nothing is to be seen above the surface but 
the gourd, which is attached to his head. The ducks, 
which have been accustomed to the sight of the floating 
gourds, and to sport and dabble among them, approach with- 
out mistrust ; the man then pulls them under water, breaks 
their necks to prevent their making a noise, and fastens them 
to his girdle. 

Pedlars are common in China, and 
they travel without a licence. Here 
is a picture of one of them. His stock 
consists of pieces of stuff, ribands, 
purses, tobacco-pouches, and other 
small articles. He also deals occa- 
sionally in a little opium and tobacQO. 
The latter is very dear in China, and 
the Chinese frequently mix with it 
opium, which produces a delicious 
kind of intoxication. There are thou- 
sands of professed opium-eaters in 
China, who ruin both mind and body 
by this destructive habit; and Mr. 
Welton, a surgeon and missionary, 
to whom the Chinese are greatly 
indebted for his services in this particular, describes the effect 
of opium as most frightful. 

The importation of opium commenced in the seventeenth 
century, and since that time it has increased to an enor- 
mous extent. The chief officers of the province of Canton 
suffered the drug (though continually prohibited) to come 
into the country in large quantities, by paying a bribe for 


each chest, and in 1825 the importation rose to 10,000 chests 
every year, which increased till nearly 30,000 chests were 
disposed of annually. 

I do not, however, wish to go into the opium question. I 
would rather afford my young friends some more pictures 
of China. The countrymen generally wear cloaks made of 
rice-straw. Their appearance is very nearly the same as that 
of the Chinese husbandman, two thousand years ago ; for the 
fashions of China never change. The dress of the ladies is 
always unalterable. The sempstresses or dressmakers trudge 
about the streets, looking out for employment, until some 
one engages them. They carry in their baskets various 
articles belonging to their profession, and do not work as 
our poor creatures do, twenty out of the twenty-four hours 
in the season, to elaborate the dress of some duchess or 
countess, or that of Mrs. Beecher Stowe, the well-known 
advocate of freedom among the blacks. 

The dress of the Chinese lady is very rich, and not un- 
graceful. She usually carries a pipe in one hand and a fan 
in the other, if the latter be not carried by a servant. The 
ladies have often their fans made so as not to close, whilst 
those of the gentlemen always close in the same manner as 
those of our ladies; but the most distinguishing mark of 
beauty among the Chinese ladies is their feet, which, to be 
handsome, must be especially small, and resemble in some 
degree that of the pettitoes of a little porker. The smallness 
of the foot is produced by placing, during infancy, the foot 
in tight shoes or bandages, so that it has no room to grow, 
what can have been the origin of this strange custom it is not 
easy to conceive, but it has been supposed to be one origina- 



ting in a wish of the men, to keep the women from gadding 



Among many " female varieties " there are a number of 
female Benzes in China, one of which is represented in the 
cut. They are a kind of Nun, who take vows for a certain 
period. There are two classes of them, one of which subjects 
themselves to stricter rules than the others. About the year 
1787, one of these Nuns, like Miss Sqirrel in the wilds of 
Suffolk, set herself up for a goddess, and pretended to en- 
lighten all the nations by supernatural doings. Thousands 
nocked to her, and becoming extremely rich, she erected a 



magnificent temple. The Emperor, however, a sly old fox, 
having suffered her to acquire as much wealth as he thought 
proper, at last ordered her to be executed, and confiscated her 
wealth to his own coffers. In a future chapter I shall afford 
my young friends some further particulars concerning the 

% Stptcrious ^bktfm?. 

NE of the most curious Old Castles I 
was ever at, was that of Baden. The 
word " Baden" is German, and signi- 
fies " bathing/' and it is here that 
much bathing takes place. The city is 
situated in a charming vale, about two 
leagues from the river Rhine. 
The Castle is one of the " lions " of those parts ; it 
is situated on a rock, and affords from all sides the most 
splendid prospect. The road to it is well cut, and made 
as easy as the nature of the ground will permit ; but it was 
a full hour before Keet (who is one of the best and most 
courageous of companions) and I reached the place where the 
wide-spread ruin stands. The rock on which it is placed is 
many hundred feet above the level of the Rhine ; and, being 
almost in the shape of a sugar-loaf, the panorama is perfect. 
Keet said his prayers, which he generally does on any 
painful ascent, and with the pathos of an old Greenwich 
Pensioner, blessed the steps, the brambles, and the hard 
stumps that annoyed him. He also performed sundry pious 
ejaculations to the tyrannical lords of the ancient domain, 



■wishing them in the "abodes of bliss/' with a fervor and pathos 
truly marvellous. At last, we were shown, amid ruins, a low- 
browed, dark, shaggy, doleful, savage, ugly-looking archway, 
at which Keet curled the hair of his upper lip, as did Don 
Quixote when about to attack the Fulling Mills ; while I, 

like Sancho, stood by, opening the sandwich-box, and the 
little bottle of very weak liquor, called water, which Keet 
eyed with great jealousy. We had a fierce-looking man as a 
guide, with a great black beard, clod-hopping shoes, a long 
pole with a spike in it — and he had lost his nose, one eye, and 


all his front teeth ! When we came to this ugly -looking 
gateway, our guide, whom Keet called " Ferocio," knocked 
with his spike-stick at the thick walls of the building, and 
cried out in mournful accents, — " This is the great gigantic 
gateway of the powerful, puissant, and portentious Castle of 
Baden ; where men were strangled, women were pressed to 
death, and children were done for in a most sanguinary, 
blood-thirsty, and barbarous manner. Behold," said he, in 
continuation, " the frowning granite that seems to yawn upon 
you with the sleep of seven centuries. Within these blocks 
of stone, was the famous ever-to-be-remembered, and never- 
to-be-forgotten secret tribunal; below it are the secret 
chambers, the secret prisons, the secret dungeons, and the 
secret horrors of this unsatisfactory pile of buildings; but, 
come my friendships, we will go to the within port, and there 
you shall see all the horrors of the dungeons as it appears by 
the light of the flambeau. You would like to see the 
dungeons ! — Gents ?" 

To this appellation we gave the most profound of bows,as much 
like the obeisances of a * gent" of any of the seven drapers' 
establishments as we could assume. " Now, gents !" said the 
guide, " elevate the lids of your desiring eyes, and follow me." 
We did so, till we came to a low portal gate, hedged round 
with ruins — dark, damp, and nauseous. " Stand here, gents," 
said the guide, with a fierce aspect and a menacing tone ; 
" stand here and contemplate, while I fetches the key." After 
keeping us waiting for a short time, he returned, holding in 
his hand a gigantic key, which, having brandished with a 
mysterious air for some seconds, he put into the lock — the 
old door grated on its hinges, and at last stood open. He 


then looked at us sternly, and with the accents of Hamlet's 
Ghost, said in a hollow voice, " Follow me I" 

Keet pulled out his *i cheese-toaster," and having deli- 
berately sharpened it on the stone door-posts, and brandished 
it as " Ferocio" did the key, he gave me an expressive leer, 
and we followed. When we got into the door-way, we 
perceived the passage to be very dark, but we followed — took 
a turning to the right and then to the left, but all was dark 
as " Erebus," and we began to feel comical. Keet called out to 
the guide, " I say, old fellow, I hope you are not going too 
far in this darkness visible." " Nouagh !" said the guide, 
with a grunt that echoed through the place, "I av' a 
flare-up in my pack I" With that he turned round, and 
rubbing a lucifer on the wall, and pulling a flambeau from 
his pocket, lighted it, and we proceeded. 

We first came to another door, little and sturdy, and grim ; 
— this he kicked open with his foot. We then descended 
some stone steps ; we then went up a few steps, then down 
again, then round a corner, and then through a niche, till 
having passed a third door-way without a door, we came to a 
large vaulted room, lighted by heavy-barred windows from 
above. " This," said the guide, " is the place in which the 
women were confined in time of war, lest they should unman 
the soldiers by their frightments. Here they were all shut up 
like ' cats in a barn/ and, it is said, that sometimes they fought 
to desperation. These here marks on the wall are said to be 
occasioned by their mutual recriminations, and the lex talions, 
as von gent called Alberto Smytheti say." 

The whole of this part of the structure is of Roman work- 
manship, but the dungeons to which they lead are evidently 


of German construction j and were, no doubt, appendages 
to the original pile ; and designed for the exercise of some 
of the delightful eccentricities of German Margraves 
or Margravines, which Keet called "little amiabilities 
of temper and prejudice." We now reached a low vaulted 
room, and our guide, with great coolness,took from his German 
small clothes, two thick candles, which having lighted, we 
were told to carry them. "Gents," said he, "look to your heads 
against the walls, your feet against the floors, and your elbows 
against the angles, don't step into holes, and say your prayers 
when you see a cross upon the stones, for that place once 
belonged to one who shall be nameless." 

Our guide now unbolted a small door, and descending two 
or three steps, we entered a narrow passage which we could 
just squeeze through, and this terminated in a square, vaulted 
room. The aspect of the passage, and still more the dismal 
horror of the vault, which Keet said, " smelt of bye-gone silent 
systems," removed all fears that I should not find dungeons 
terrible enough. It was quite impossible that stone walls can 
convey a feeling of more hopeless desolation. From this 
square room branched one more opening ; but the utter 
darkness, the earthy smell, the coldness, the damp, the sullen 
mystery of the intricate windings it comprehended were 
such, that we now made, what Keet called, an " awful 

Our guide, however, was not so timid. He said, coura- 
geously, " Come allons, gents. If you die here, you will not 
want a burying," and he led the way, with a " mind your 
head here," and "mind your feet there." We were, after 
many tortuous windings, stopped by a door of stone, a foot 



thick, hewn in one piece ont of the granite rock. This door 
stood ajar, and our " Ferocio" opened it with his thick stick, 
which he used as a lever. We squeezed past it — Keet gave 
it one of his pious addresses, and made the sign of the cross. 
* This is the little Bijou,'' said the guide, " a nice little gem of 
a prison." It was a small, vaulted stone room, utterly dark, 
damp, cold, and horribly mouldy to the nose and lungs — and 
deadly to the body and soul. We shuddered — Keet looked 
savage, and clenched his " cheese-toaster" with revenge in 
his looks, as if he would have summoned up the Ghost of the 
villainous Old Baron — who could form such dungeons — 
back again to earth, to have a stab at him. 

" This is the next," said the guide, as he passed through 
another massive d oor of rock, and another dismal vault. " Thi s 
is the third," said he, and passed into another. " This is the 
fourth," said he, and took out his brandy bottle — " and this 
is the fifth," hurrying us along, and taking sup after sup from 
the aforesaid brandy bottle — " and this is the eighth, ninth, 
and tenth." There were, indeed, ten such horrible dungeons ; 
some of them hewn out of the solid rock, as well as the 
passages which led to them, and others are constructed 
of immense blocks of stone. 

After passing through several passages, we reached a 
chamber of lesser dimensions, the aspect and atmosphere of 
which might have chilled a lion's heart. Our guide paused as 
he passed the threshold, took another dose, of course, from 
his brandy bottle, and said : — " This is the ' Zammination 
Chamber/ " Many massive iron riDgs fastened into the walls 
of this room, gave indications, sufficiently intelligible, of the 
mode in which the questioniDgswere wont tobe carriedon there. 



One of the openings that led from this frightful room 
terminated in a wall, along which another passage rose at 
right angles. Exactly at the corner at which the turn was 
made, the footing of solid earth or rock that we had hitherto 
trod, was changed for a flooring of planks ; which, if not quite 
loose, were yet so placed as to leave considerable space be- 
tween them. He suffered us to pass over them, and when we 
had entered the door-way that stood at right angles, he 
stopped saying — " Here, this is the Oubliette" and pointed as 
he spoke to the planks we had passed. 

" And what is the Oubliette ?" " It means Maurecement !" 
said the guide, " a sort of ' eternal without a bottom.' When a 
foreigner was sentenced to be forgotten, he was made to pass 
from the judgment-hall through this door, these planks then 
sunk beneath him, he was universitied as he fell to the bottom, 
and was heard of no more." I shall tell you more of the 
horrors of this place in another chapter. 



SH f N many respects Egypt is one of 

the most interesting countries 

on the face of the earth. It was 

the cradle of infant science — and 

pS-^ 5 the first seat of regular govern- 

'^0* ment; and if we go back into the 


darkness of bye-gone ages, we shall find in Egypt the first 
dawn of social intelligence. The land of the Pharoahs was 
an old country in the infant age of Greece. The earliest 
writers of Europe describe its grandeur as having already 
reached its consummation, and even as beginning to pass 
away. In the days of Homer, the capital of the Thebaid, 
with its hundred gates, and its vast population, was a subject 
of wonder, and what that poet relates of it, as illustrated by 
the recondite criticism of a Mitford, would scarcely be be- 
lieved, were it not that the remains which, even after a lapse 
of three thousand years, continue to resist the injuries of 
the atmosphere and of barbarism, bear evidence to a still 
greater magnificence than is recorded in the pages of the 
Odyssey. Keet, the antiquarian and traveller, whose Asiatic 
researches do him so much honor, spent a considerable time 
in Egypt under the patronage of Ali Pacha, and made it his 
business to search into the past and present state of that 
wonderful people. Rich in the intelligence of modern science, 
he bears testimony to the improving capabilities of the modern 
Egyptians. In examining the monuments of that ancient 
people, he formed conclusions as to their former manners and 
customs, by no means uninteresting. He discourses to us of the 
" Dead, and of their Burial." " In ancient times," he tells us 
that, " a talent of silver, four-hundred-and-fifty pounds, was 
often employed in a funeral. The relations of the deceased " 
says he, " announced to the judges that a 'dead* is about to 
pass the canal, and of the place to which he belonged. Two- 
and-forty judges are then collected and arranged on a semi- 
circular bench, which is situated on the bank of the canal, 
the boat is prepared, and the pilot, who is called by the 



Egyptians, ' Charon/ is ready at his post. But before the 
body is put into the boat, the authorities assemble, and one, 
who is called the accuser, or sateen, brings forward against 
the deceased all his crimes. The judges deliberate — an ad- 
vocate replies to the accuser — if the accuser makes out his 
case against the advocate, the deceased is denied honourable 
interment, and may be cast into Tophet to be consumed ; 
but if his conduct has been good, he is ferried over the lake, 
and his soul is supposed to enter the realms of eternal bliss, 
prepared for the righteous from all eternity." 

The Egyptians had many curious manners and customs. 
Unlike the other Oriental nations, the Egyptians, like the 
English, since the times of Shakspeare, Sir Philip Sydney, 
Raleigh, and other beard- wearers, did not wear beards. They 
were the only people that practised shaving from remote anti- 
quity, and they held it as the sign of civilization, as it was also 
considered by the Normans. We invariably find the captives 
from barbarous tribes depicted with rough beards and shaggy 



locks, as if no more striking marks could be given, of their in- 
feriority to the highly cultivated nation which was subjected 
to the sway of the Pharoahs. In the engraving, we behold 
two captive Jews, with an Egyptian warrior before and an 
Egyptian attendant behind. The Jews have their beards, the 
Egyptians have not ; and in the engraving following, we have 
two warriors, each leading two captives : the warriors have the 
bow-and-arrow — the bow being not a stick bent in a rounded 
form, but a piece of wood bent at a very wide angle. The cap- 
tives are bound and bearded, and their costume consists of a 
long cloak, which falls nearly to the ancles, leaving their front 
dresses exposed, while that of the Egyptians are like petti- 

Leaving beards for awhile, we may remark upon the law 
processes of the Egyptians. In civil suits, the number of 
judges — or, rather, the jury — was thirty ; and it is worthy of 
notice, that their president wore a breast-plate adorned with 
jewels, upon which the word Truth appeared strongly embla- 



zoned. The eight books of the laws were spread open in 
court ; the pleadings of the advocates were in writing, in order 
that the feelings of the judges might not be improperly biased 
by the eloquence of the orator. The president delivered 
the sentence of his colleagues by touching the successful 
party with the mysterious symbol of truth and justice, which, 
adorned his person. 

In their battles, the Egyptians were very ferocious, and 
after they were over, exercised many barbarities, by the immo- 
lation of their prisoners. An admirable representation of a 
battle-field is found on the walls of the great Temple of 
Medinet Habou. The South, and part of the East wall is 
covered with a battle scene, where the cruel punishment of the 
vanquished, by cutting off their hands and maiming their 

bodies, is performed in the presence of the Chief, who has seated 
himself in repose, on the back part of his chariot, to witness 
the execution of this horrid sentence. Heaps of amputat ed 
hands are counted over before him, and an equal number of 



scribes, with scrolls in their hands, are writing down the 
account : as many rows of prisoners stand behind, to undergo a 
similar mutilation in their turns. Their hands are bound 
behind their backs, or lashed over their heads, or thrust into 
eye-shaped manacles. Some of their heads are twisted 
completely round ; and some of them are turned back to back, 
and their arms lashed together round the elbows, and thus 
they are marched up to punishment. 

In ancient times, the Egyptian system, as now, was one of 
the most cruel tyranny. Large masses of men were ordered, 
at the will of a despot, to " labour, in the sweat of their 
brow," to their death. The slavery of the lower orders gave 

birth to the Pyramids. What masses were employed, and 
how human life was wasted, is evinced by the manner in 
which Necho made his canal, connecting the Nile with the 
Red Sea. Things are now much the same in that country. 
Mehemet Ali, the Pacha of Egypt, obliged 150,000 men — 
chiefly Arabs from Upper Egypt — to work on his canal, con- 
necting the Nile with the Sea at Alexandria ; 20,000 of that 



number perished during the execution of the work. The con- 
struction of the railroad from Cairo to Alexandria is not, how- 
ever, conducted on this wicked principle ; and things are 
beginning to wear the appearance of humanity. 

One of the great labours of the ancient Egyptians was 
brick-making. The bricks were made of the clay of the dis- 
trict, or mud of the Nile ; and in the Egyptian monuments, 
we have many representations, not only of the manner in 

which brick-making was carried on, but also of the application 
of bricks in the construction of houses. When Moses com- 
menced his mission, the Hebrews were chiefly occupied in 
making these large bricks, dried in the sun, and compacted 
with straw, such as may be seen in the Nimroud ruins. 
These bricks were often made use of in the upper parts of 
houses, and in process of time, the weather, and the heat of 
the sun, destroyed the more fragile part of a building, and 
buried the strong foundations of it beneath their ruins. In 
the engraving I have here introduced, the mode of making the 



brick is delineated ; some of the brick-makers are cutting 
the clay — others are moulding it into parallelepipedom forms, 
and placing the bricks in a row for drying. In the drawing, 
the bricks appear to be one above another, but this appear- 
ance is given in consequence of the Egyptians using no per- 

spective in their drawings. The mode of arranging them was 
in rows, flat upon the ground ; they were then baked by the 
heat of the sun, and the long dry weather, which lasts for 
months in this part of the world. 

In building their houses, the Egyptians arranged the bricks 
much after the same manner as we do at present, and had a kind 
bitumenous cement for mortar. In the engraving, copied from 
one of the Egyptian tombs, we have, first the taskmaster, sitting 
in the usual Egyptian custom, with a long rod or stick in his 
hand; below him is a slave, who lias just brought some bricks 
to be used on the building ; before him is another slave, with 
masses of cement or bitumen, and below this figure are 
others, building up a wall, or side of a house. 



The Pyramids, of which I have so often spoken, are, above 
all things, the most wonderful of the Egyptian antiquities, 
and exhibit the science of early times graphically. Nor 

- 1 

, 1 


- 1 1 




1 / / 

/ ( 

were their temples less majestic. That erected at Sais 
had in it a sanctuary, -which consisted of a single stone. 
The carriage of this employed two thousand men for the 
whole period of three years. The length of this hallowed 
stone was twenty-one cubits, the width fourteen, and the 
height eight — and allowing the cubit to be one foot seven 
inches, you will have an idea of its diminsions. The 
practice of erecting monolithic (single stone) temples was 
very general in Egypt, some striking specimens having been 
preserved in various parts of the country. Pilgrimages and 
sacrifices were a part of the system of religion. The latter 
were employed for the expiation of sins. The worshipper 
placed his hand on the head of the victim, loaded it with 
imprecations, and its last gasp was the seal of his pardon. 
Till the reign of Amasis, even human victims were offered. 



Besides the heavenly bodies, some kinds of animals, also, 
were worshipped. These were not regarded as mere symbols, 
but adored as actual gods, like the Apis and Mnevis ; this 
worship arose from the hieroglyphics of the Egyptians. In 
one of their places of worship, the painting below was found, 
which represents offerings, attended by priestesses, coming to 
the temple. And with this, 1 shall conclude my notes upon 

8Jje Uillofo Cite. 


In a valley deep a little stream did run, 
Dashing o'er the pebbles in the blithsome sun ; 
By the river's edge the forget-me-not did grow, 
And a weeping willow kissed the water's flow. 

The violet raised its head from under the willow-tree, 
Whispering gentle words, as also did the bee, 
Who came to gather honey from the lovely flowers 
Of the valley meadow, till the cruel mowers 
Came, each scythe in hand, to that valley deep, 
And cut down the flowers. Weep, weep, oh weep ! 
Now no more the flowers fill with scent the air, 
Now no more the skylark has a young brood there. 

Lonely is the willow, by the water's flow, 
Weeping, ever weeping, to the stream below : — 
Weeping, ever weeping, like a thing forlorn — 
Mourning for the flowers that were cut down at morn. 

The corn is ripe and golden, the autumn sun o'erhead, 
But in that silent valley the willow-tree is dead. 


///'/// // //// /// '/'/ ////// > // ) 

S|i $UpteniaI fcfe 

GOATS are the oddest creatures that can be imagined, 
and are as varied as to species as they are as to tricks. 
He is a sheepish looking animal, but nothing at all like the 
sheep in its habits. He can bear heat and cold, wind and 
storm — it is only very severe cold that kills him, as it did my 
poor "Billy/' in St. John's Churchyard, seven years ago. The 
inconstancy of his disposition is marked by the irregularity 
of his actions. He walks, stops short, runs, leaps, approaches, 
retires, shows or conceals himself, or flies off, as if actuated 
by mere caprice, and without any other cause than what 
arises from an eccentricity of temper. Yet he is a very 
docile and attached beast. He can be made to draw a car- 
riage, and patiently submits to labour. He will also bear 
a saddle, and in some mountain countries it is no uncommon 
thing to see little children mounted on goats, who ride with 
great ease, and sometimes with great speed. These goats are 
very fond of horses, and horses are very fond of them. I 
have often found our poor " Billy " standing on the back of 
" Bessie," the mare, when the stable-door has been opened of 
a morning. They are, too, from their very nature, prone 
to climb : and master " Billy," not always content with 



u Bessie's " back as a mountain, on one occasion leaped from 
the wall of the dung-pit on to a higher wall, and from that 
to the tiles of the stable, and from there he soon mounted to 
the top of the roof ; and after capering about there for some 
time, he, evidently pleased with the mountain-like elevation, 
bounded to the roof of another house, from that to a third, 
and so on from roof to roof, over half the houses in the town. 
It was difficult to know what to do — " Billy " would not come 
down till he liked. It was of no use to call " Billy, Billy," and 
to hold up bunches of hay or Shrewsbury cakes — " Billy" only 
snorted at them ; and every person over whose roof " Billy" 
pattered had a reverential fear for their tiles, and the outcry 
was loud to get him from them. One U savage bear" proposed 
to shoot him, a " cunning old fox " proposed to throw a lasso 
over him, but to no purpose. " Billy" was delighted with his 
elevated position, and felt as proud as if he had been called to 
the chair at a public dinner, and felt no desire to come down 
whatever. It so happened, however, that being Whit-Monday 
— Punch's Holiday — the parish engines had to be called out 
for exercise, and the principal churchwarden of the place, 
the renowned Robert Balderdash, Esq., proposed that the 
water-spout should be brought to bear upon Billy. After 
some remonstrance on the part of Jemmy Barerib, the Secre- 
tary of the Teetotallers, at the unnecessary waste of water, 
the engine made play, and poor Billy was soused over head 
and ears, and nearly knocked over by the force of the water, 
whereupon he snorted and rose on his hind legs, and kicked 
and scampered homewards as fast as his legs would carry 

It is not an uncommon thing to find goats attending an 


army on its march, and in some of those provinces which the 
Russian Emperor wishes to steal from the Turks, herds of 
goats follow in the rear of the Turkish troops. They are 
generally milch goats, and afford an agreeable supply of milk 
to the officers and others of the various regiments. One of 
our own regiments had a couple of goats attached to it ; the 
last pair had been presented to it by Her Majesty the Queen, 
but one of these having died, the remaining one now does 
duty alone, as you see him in the picture. 

Some goats have been taught very extraordinary tricks. 
They have been taught to climb a very high pole, by the aid 
of small pegs let into its sides, and then to balance themselves 
on its top. They have also been trained to take enormous 
leaps through blazing circles of fire : to dance to the sound 
of a tabor, and to do such wonderful things, that I am 
ashamed to relate them to you, for fear you would not believe 
me — therefore, let this be sufficient for a Chapter on Groats. 

l 2 

W$t §kr« ; or, % Cjjiftr, % $m$ aito 

A LOVING fairy watched over tlie slumbers of a beautiful 
child. The little maiden seemed to be dreaming un- 
easily, for she turned often in her sleep, then she rubbed a 
little ring on her finger, and then waving her arm upwards, 
she sang : — 

" Rain, rain, 
Go away. 
Come again 

Another day — ■ 
Little Johnny 
Wants to play." 

" Mary ! Mary ! my pretty one !" said the kind fairy, 
" what is the matter ? That magic ring, which I gave you, 
— you have been rubbing it for the last ten minutes, — what 
is it you want with me f° 

" Did I rub the ring ?" said Mary, starting up ; "I did not 
know that : — but I do want you, dear fairy. You must know 
that I and my brother Johnny are invited to my auntie's to- 
morrow, provided it be fine weather. It has been raining 


almost every day for the last week, and last night it looked 
very black, as if it would rain again. Now, dear fairy, grant 
me a favour ? — Give me and Johnny a fine day for our visit 
to auntie's." 

The fairy looked tenderly on the child, but yet grave. 
" Mary, my sweet, did I not tell you, when I gave you the 
magic ring, that you were not to summon me except when you 
wanted comfort, or advice, or help to strengthen your cha- 
racter ? I said you were never to ask gifts of me, nor any 
change of outward circumstances. However, it is well you 
have called me ; for I have something to tell you. I am about 
to leave the Fairy realm for a short time, and during my 
absence I cannot answer the rubbing of the ring. But 1 will 
not leave you without some help. Until my return, I will 
lend you one of the birds that sing in the gardens of our 

The fairy struck three times with her wand upon the floor, 
and a moment or two afterwards three or four little hands 
were lifted up, holding a golden bird-cage, with a beautiful 
canary in it. 

" There, my child, cherish this little bird tenderly. Let the 
door of its cage be open all day , that it may wander about 
the garden where it will. It will not go away from you very 
far. Every night it will sleep in its cage." 

Mary looked on the little bird, and was greatly pleased. 
She put her lips to the golden wires, and the pretty little 
creature came and kissed them. She opened the door, and it 
flew upon her finger and sang, and with its pretty round eyes 
looked into hers, and played with its beak about her pretty 

158 THE rain; or, the child, 


Oh, fairy ! dear fairy ! a beautiful bird indeed ! I will 
take great care of it, for I love it tenderly ." 

" My child," said the fairy, " I have lent you this beautiful 
creature for your good, not for your amusement merely. This 
little bird has the power of speaking to you when you need 
it. Listen attentively to his songs, and let the meaning and 
spirit of them sink deep into your heart." 

So saying, the fairy went away, and left Mary alone with 
the bird. For awhile the pleasure of looking at it quite filled 
her mind. Its beautiful plumage, its little round sparkling 
eye, its pretty, affectionate ways, its clear, sweet note, were 
always delightful and charming. After a time, however, she 
remembered the day's pleasure that had been promised to her 
at her aunt's, and she lifted up the blind of the window to 
look at the weather. 

O dear ! dear ! it rained worse than ever ! — Drip, drip, 
drip — patter, patter, patter. Little bits of spongy cloud kept 
scudding overhead, sometimes black and sometimes grey, 
sometimes dropping a good drenching shower, and sometimes 
only a drizzling sheet of spray. The roads were soft and 
miry, with little pools of water here and there, through which 
the horses and carts passed with a splashing sound. Mary 
sighed. She thought of her aunt's beautiful garden and 
meadow, of the games of play with her cousins, of the 
swing under the boughs of the mulberry tree, of the pet 
lamb and the little dog, and little Johnny trotting about 
and enjoying it all ; and then she looked out into the 
gloomy rain. How vexatious ! " Rain, rain, go away !" 
the lips of the little maiden pouted, and presently she began 
to cry. 


" Swe-et ! — swe-et \" said the little bird, from his golden 
cage, and then he broke out into song : — 

" Oh ! Foolish, little maid to pray 
The fruitful rain to go away. 
Showers as well as sunbeams fall, 
From that deep Soul which loveth all ; 
Dark or bright, the Heavens are full 
Of mercies — sweet and beautiful." 

« i 

c Ah, little bird ! is that you, dearest ? " said Mary ; " I 
did not mean to ask anything improper. I know the rain is 
very beautiful ; but then so much of it, you know — and just 
at this time, too, when we are invited to auntie's ! O ! really, 

little bird, it is very, very *.. 

But the little bird would not hear more. He drowned her 
voice with loud carollings, and he kept on singing all the day, 
while the rain fell and pattered against the window-panes. 
All the day long it rained without ceasing. When the eve- 
ning came, it held up for awhile, but the sky was still dark 
and lowering. Mary retired to her bed-room for the night, 
and placed her little bird on the dressing-table near the win- 
dow ; and when she had said her evening prayer, and lain 
down on her pillow with a quiet heart, the little creature gave 
one long-drawn note of song, and a calm sleep came over both 
bird and child. Once during the night, the veil of clouds 
parted for a moment, and a glowing little star sent a ray of 
its beauty into the room ; but the darkness folded over it 
again, and when the morning came and Mary got up, it 
rained. Again ! Still disappointment ! Little Johnny, at 
the breakfast-table, kept on asking why he did not go to aun- 

160 the rain; or, the child, 

tie's; and it required a good deal of talking and coaxing to 
keep him from crying about it. 

Just as breakfast was over, who should ride up to the door 
but Thomas, auntie's groom, mounted on a beautiful bay 
mare, but splashed up to the very saddle-girths, with mud 
and mire. Thomas brought a letter to Mary's mamma, to 
say that the visit of the children would better be put off for 
a few days. At present, the lawn was soddened with water, 
and all the paths were wet and muddy. As the children 
wanted to amuse themselves out of doors, thev must wait not 
only till the weather was fine, but also till the ground was 
dry. Now, to the ears of poor Mary and little Johnny, this 
sounded like a putting off of the invitation altogether. 
Johnny cried about it sadly, and Mary, partly out of love to 
him, and partly fiom her own disappointment, felt much in- 
clined to cry too. She ran up to her bed-room, and tried to 
drive back the tears, by thinking of something bright and 
cheerful ; but it was very difficult, for the pattering of the 
rain went on, and as the drops broke and melted on the win- 
dow, they ran doAvn it like tears. The furniture of the room 
was clammy and unpleasant to the touch, and now and then 
a big rain-drop fell down the chimney into the fire-place, and 
sounded on the bright fender. Altogether, it was very dis- 
mal. Mary looked up to her little bird ; his round bright eye 
twinkled as bright and happy as ever. She remembered what 
lie had said about the skies being always full of beauty, and 
she knew that it was true ; but still she did long for the sun- 
shine, and she could not help talking to her little pet about 
it: — "Oh, when will the sunshine come, my pretty bird? 
when will the sunshine come ? " 

the;, fairy, and the magic bird. 161 

" Swe-et ! swe-et ? " said the bird : — 

" When the troubled breast is still, 
And duty guides and shapes the "will ; — 
When holy feelings upward stray, 
And meet the love of Heaven mid- way — 

In the heart without guile 

The sweet sunbeams shall smile, 

And joy all around, 

Like music-drops, sound."' 

"All, little bird, you talk just like tlie fairy ! — She speaks 
to me about the inward sunshine ; but, dear little bird, I want 
to know when the outward sunshine will come ? " 

The bird was silent. Presently it hopped out of its cage — 
perched upon her linger — kissed her on the lips — and passed 
its little bill up and down her cheek, in such a fondling way, 
that she felt tears of love and tenderness in her eyes. She 
caressed the little bird, and thought no more of the rain ; and 
she made up her mind, that happen what might, rain or sun- 
shine, disappointment or not, she would leave off her mur- 
muring. So, with a calm bright countenance, she went about 
all her duties ; and little Johnny, touched by her kindness, 
and amused by her playfulness, grew quite content to have 
the promised visit to auntie's put off for a little while. 

The whole week continued shoAvery. Some days there 
were several hours of sunshine, which seemed to give promise 
of brighter weather; then came an hour of rain, which 
drenched the gardens and the roads, and made play out-of- 
doors impossible. But now, it had no effect on the temper 
of little Mary. She would have liked fine weather better 
than wet, a great deal better indeed ; but she was gradually 

162 the rain; or, the child, 

learning to bear disappointment; the inward sunshine was 
brightening in her heart. One day, when there had been a 
good many intervals of sunshine, and the showers had passed 
over quickly, she was playing with little Johnny in the 
parlour, when she suddenly heard her bird singing loudly, 
and calling to her with his " swe-et ! swe-et V 

" Ah ! my pretty one ! I am coming ! Darling has got 
something to say to me ! " 

She hurried up to her room, and the bird sang : — 

" See where hope and beauty glow, 
Dancing down the bending bow." 

She opened the window, and looked out over the landscape. 
There was a most lovely rainbow in the skies. It arched 
over a broad heaven, and the green earth beneath it sent up 
a grateful fragrance, and all the flowers looked up lovingly at 
the rainbow, and gave it smile for smile. Water-drops 
twinkled like stars among the green leaves of the gently 
waving trees ; and, as the sunbeams glistened on the gilt 
vane of the distant church- spire, it gleamed in the air like a 
tongue of golden flame. What a chirping from the green 
boughs and the hedge-rows ! The lark in the sky sent 
messages of love down to the linnet in the brushwood, and 
the robin on the thorn. The breeze sprung up, and sang 
through the leafy boughs of the Poplar and the Elm, and 
light and music mingled together, as if nature had clustered 
her beauties and joys for a service of thanksgiving. Far and 
wide, and upward, spread the various melody. It seemed 
as if every voice had wings, fluttering with delight, and bear- 
ing away into the blue air the silent gratitude of the flowers, 


and^'the prayers of all beautiful though voiceless things. 
Mary sat at the window, and with cheek resting on her hand, 
she looked over the beautiful scene. The beauty-drops all 
around trickled to the very roots of her affections ; her heart 
throbbed, her eyes glistened, and the breathing of her bosom 
heaved it as gently as if the waves of some soft music- stream 
were flowing there. She saw that all was good — storm and 
calm, rain and sunshine, summer and winter — all was good; 
and her young spirit hallowed it, and rested in a sabbath of 
calm. Presently the rainbow melted away, the clouds fell to 
the horizon, and the sun spread his bright beams over a 
broad, blue sky. Mary put on her little straw-hat, and went 
down into the garden. Near the steps was a large flower- 
pot, with a rose-tree in it. It was half-blown; the rain-drops 
were glistening in its leaves ; its fragrance was passing into 
the air, and making it delicious and sweet; its blushing tints 
were exquisitely lovely; the mere looking at the rainbow 
seemed to have increas ed its beauty. Mary took the flower 
in her hand — smelled it — kissed its leaves — and then a pulse 
of music throbbed at her heart, and the little maiden sang: — 

" I dream of my Rose -when the spirits of light 
Dance on the beautiful margins of night, 

And the mists of the morning unclose ; 
"When at murmuring eve, the angel of rest 
Foldeth us lovingly close to her breast, 

Then I think of my own pretty Rose. 

Beautiful -world, that so well can impart 
The lessons of loveliness fit for the heart ! 

A stream of sweet tenderness flows 
From bird and from flower — from streamlet and sky — 
From beauty beloAv and from beauty on high, 

And the smiles of my own pretty Rose." 


" All ! Miss Mary \" said a voice, " I am always glad to 
hear you sing, and particularly such a happy, thankful song 
as that." 

Mary started, for she did not know that any one was by to 
hear her sing. She turned, and saw the farmer's wife, one o 
their nearest neighbours, who had come in silently by the 
garden- wicket, with a milk-pail in her hand, which she was 
soins; to take into the kitchen. 

" We are going to have a change of weather at last, Miss !" 

" Are we?" said Mary. " How do you know that ?" 

"The wind that is blowing now has dried up a good deal 
of wet already, and my husband says, that if it goes on blow- 
ing in the night, it will be quite dry under foot by to-morrow 

" I am very glad to hear it," said Mary, " for Johnny and 
I have been engaged, for some time past, to go to my aunt's ; 
but the rain has prevented us. To-morrow, you think there 
is a chance for us, do you ?" 

"I have no doubt of it, my dear; but if you like, I will 
give you a signal of fair weather early in the morning. You 
know my boy Jem minds his father's sheep on tho se downs 
yonder. He plays the? flageolet pretty well, and he always 
takes it with him to amuse himself when he is alone on the 
hills. When the wind is blowing from the quarter where it 
is now, you can hear him very plainly, as you sometimes have, 
no doubt. I will tell him to play to-morrow morning, about 
six o'clock ; and if you can hear him, you may be sure that 
the wind is in the dry quarter, and may reckon on a fine day." 

" Thank you !" said Mary, " let it be so, if you please. Tell 
him to play loud and well." 


That day passed in happy, tranquil beauty. A fresh breeze 
swept over the hills and leas, and sang through the boughs all 
the evening long; and when the little maiden went to bed, 
its murmuring hushed her to slumber. Pleasant was her 
sleep, and beautiful and innocent her dreams ! Tick, tick, 
tick ! went the clock upon the stair- case, and the wind went 
on whistling and sighing through all the night hours. At 
five o'clock in the morning, the light shone strong into the 
bed-chamber, and every cock in the neighbourhood was 
crowing. The little maiden turned over on her pillow ; but 
she still slept. Six o'clock ! and not awake yet ? Suddenly 
the little bird fluttered his wings, and gave a long shake of 
his music at the very top of his voice. Then he sang : — 

" What ! my maiden — sleeping still ? 
Hark ! the music on the hill ! " 

Mary awoke, and the first sounds she heard after the calling 
of her bird, were the notes of a flageolet from the downs. She 
got up and dressed, drew up the blind of her window and 
looked out — and, oh! what a clear, dry, beautiful, fresh, 
sparkling morning ! 

Oh ! happy day ! Now, Johnny, my dear, we shall go to 
auntie's, and play in the meadow and garden through the 
bright sunny hours. Up ! up ! and be stirring every one ! 
Get the breakfast over in a twinkling, and out with the pony 
chaise! Now they are off! Johnny and Mary, side by side, 
and one of her fond arms around him. 

Auntie's was an exceedingly nice place to go to. She had 
an excellent house, and beautiful grounds attached to it. 
There was a lawn and shrubbery, and flower-beds, and foun- 
tain, a dog and a peacock, and, oh ! such a beautiful little pet 


THE rain; or, the child, 

lamb! Cousins Julia'and George wove a garland of flowers 
and gave it to Johnny, who put it round the lamb's neck. 
Mary got a basin of milk from the kitchen, and the gentle 
little creature lapped it from her hand. 


Thus, sometimes out of doors, sometimes in, sometimes in 
the greenhouse and shrubbery, sometimes in the paddock, — 
sometimes playing with the dog, sometimes with the lamb, 
and always with each other, the happy children flew on the 
wings of golden hours to the evening of the day. 

While the chaise was being got ready to take them home, 
Mary wandered alone for a moment or two into a retired 
part of the garden, and while there, she carelessly, and with- 
out thinking of what she did, rubbed the magic ring upon 
her finger. 

The fairy instantly appeared. 

" What, Fairy ! have you come back again ? I was not 
thinking of you. I did not know that I had rubbed the 
ring. T did not intend to trouble you." 

" I know you did not ; but I have come for all that. Mary, 
my child, I am very happy indeed, to find that you have 
attended so well to my little bird, and that you have grown 
so patient and spiritual. I have come now to say that the 
time has arrived when we fairies must have our gifts returned 
to us. Give me that little ring from your finger." 

The little maiden obeyed, and put the ring into the fairy's 

" Good, my child ! what I am now going to say to you 
will, I fear, be rather painful. It is this : — by the time you 
get home you will find I have taken away the beautiful 
magic bird. You remember that it was but a loan until my 
return ?" 

" Oh, dear Fairy ! don't ! don't ! Pray don't take it 
away," cried the child, bursting into tears . 

" Hush, my pretty one ! Remember you are not, and 

168 THE RAIN; OR, THE CHILI), &c. 

never will be, without the teaching of beautiful things. Has 
not every bird in the skies a voice for you? Do not the rain- 
bows speak of love and beauty ? Do not your own roses breathe 
sweet affection on you? And the wind, and the rain, and the 
stars, and the trees, have they not already been teachers of 
wisdom to you ? My darling, you are not forgotten ! * Day 
unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth forth 
knowledge ' for you and for all that are willing to learn." 

The fairy vanished. Mary bowed her head and dried up 
her tears. She went into the house, kissed her aunt and 
cousins affectionately, and went home with Johnny in the 
pony chaise. 

Her after life was something like this experience of her 
youth. It had its rainy season and its disappointments; it 
had its rainbow of hope and beauty ; it had its winds and 
its storms; its sunshine and its calms; and it had, too, a still 
small voice within it singing Ilk e a magic bird. By listening 
to what it said and obeying it, she made it on the whole a 
life of happiness and beauty. 

%\t (Bkixk Cdcjrajrjr. 

Most wondrous specimen of art, 

With Nature's laws combined, 
Thou actest an enchanter's part, 

Unrivalled in its kind. 

United, at a moment's date 

Two distant spots we see ; 
AVhilst time and space, annihilate, 

Are set at nought by thee. 

The fabled wonders, which of old 

Our childhood loved to read, 
Have scarcely equal wonders told, 

To match thy light'ning speed. 

The waive of the magician's wand 

Bade distant scenes appear ; — 
Whilst far off lands, at thy command, 

Obediently hear. 

O'er miles and miles the message flies ; 

Yet scarcely it is said — 
When lo ! — the listener replies 

Before a moment's fled. 



"When shall thy new-found influence cease ?- 

How far will it extend ? — 
Shall not its curious powers increase ? — 

Remotest nations blend. 

Tet enemies thou needs't must find — 

True merit raises spite — 
Then think of all the foes combined 

"With which thou'lt have to fight : 

Ambassadors — who'll be sent back 
Prom every foreign nation — 

With secretaries at their back, 
All dying of vexation. 

The post-office destroyed will be — 

For where' s the use of writing ? — 
While answers will come back to us 
While queries we're inditing. 

Let's have a talk, then, quite at ease, 
And gossip while we may ; 

Let's chat awhile with the Chinese, 
And jest with Paraguay. 

"We'll ask a riddle in Peru — 

Tell tales in Ispahan, — 
Just speak a word in Timbuctoo — i 

And whisper in Japan. 

As round the world thy influence rolls, 
Por one, I shall not wonder 

To find, through thee, the very poles 
Cannot be kept asunder. 

- - - - 
3J1 ~* 



' / /// // el? //if ////// 

|nimrik gjajj at flje |§aIL 

■j| JN old Englisli Hall is one of the finest 
and most noble of mansions. Our 
country abounds with them ; and 
f,\\3 happy may be, I will not say is, 
he who possesses one. Old Leck- 
ford Hall, in Suffolk, and Helming- 
ham-H'all, in the same place, have 
ever commanded my veneration; 
but there is one, which now shall 
be nameless, that I used, in my 
youth, to love to pay a visit to. 
The said hall stood in a secluded 
situation, deeply embowered. On three 
sides it was surrounded by a park, on the 
fourth by meadows, edged by the river. 
Close by, on one side of the house, was a 
thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge 
of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the 
park. It is an irregular building of great antiquity, probably 
erected about the termination of feudal warfare, when 

m 2 


defence became no longer to be an object in a country 
mansion. Manv circumstances in the interior of the 
house,* however, seemed appropriate to feudal times. The 
hall is very spacious, floored with stones and lighted 
by large transoms that are closed with casements. Its walls 
are hung with old military accoutrements, that have long 
been left a prey to the rust. At one end of the hall is a range 
of coats of mail and helmets, and there is on every side abun- 
dance of old-fashioned pistols and guns, many of them with 
matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a row of 
leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to have 
been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak table, reach- 
ing nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have 
feasted the whole neighbourhood, and an appendage to one 
end of it made it answer, at other times, for the old game of 
shuffle-board. The rest of the furniture is in a suitable style, 
particularly an aged chair of curious workmanship, an old 
carved chest, a grave-looking old ebony cabinet inlaid with 
precious stones, while the walls were hung with noble pieces 
of tapestry, representing the hunting of Diana, and other 
strange subjects of sylvan classicality. 

The entrance into the hall was by a lofty porch, but there 
was a winding stair at one side of it, that led from the front 
door to a quadrangle within. At the other it opened into a 
gloomy staircase, by which you ascended to the first-floor, and, 
passing the doors of some bed-chambers, entered a narrow gal- 
lery, which extends along the back part of the house from one 
end to the other, and looks upon an old garden, with high 
walls all round it, and having niches for medallions, in which 
the busts of the twelve Caesars appear in all their naked-necked 


and unadorned beauty. The gallery is hung with portraits, 
chiefly in the Spanish dresses of the sixteenth century. In 
one of the bed-chambers, which you pass in going towards 
the gallery, is a bedstead hung with blue farniture, which time 
has now made dingy and thread-bare. The other bed-rooms 
sympathise with this, and the whole brought back to me the 
glory of former days. 

The hall of the country squire was usually the scene of 
hospitality. At the upper end was placed the orsille, or high 
table, a little elevated above the floor, and here the master of 
the mansion presided, with an authority, if not a state, which 
almost equalled that of the potent Baron. The table was 
divided into upper and lower messes by a high salt-cellar, and 
the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the 
situation of their seats above and below the salt-cellar : a 
custom which not only distinguished the relative dignity of 
the guests, but extended likewise to the freemen ; the wine 
frequently circulating only above the salt-cellar, and the 
dishes below it being of a coarser kind than those near the 
head of the table. 

Such was an old hall in ancient times. And such remains 
the old hall to which I have alluded, with this difference, that 
the people, the manners, and the customs have changed. The 
old hall is now tenanted by a gentleman of birth and fortune, 
who is also the spiritual guide of the scattered flocks of his 
somewhat extensive domain. He is, indeed, the " Good Shep- 
herd of the Sheep," and the sheep' love him and follow him. 
It is his delight to make all cheerful about him, and nothing 
affords him greater pleasure than to give a grand treat at the 
hall to the young people, especially the children of the villa- 



gers round him. Once a year he has what he calls a 
" Juvenile Day at the Hall." He invites both rich and poor, 
and mingles them together for their mutual good — deeming 


nothing to be more delightful than the text of scripture, 
" rich and poor meet together, for the Lord is the maker of 
them all." 

It was a beautiful day in the latter end of June, that the 
" Juvenile Day at the Hall " took place. The day was ushered 
in by the jingle of the three bells of the little church or 
chapel close to the hall, and within its precincts. A flag was 
placed upon the little tower, and festoons of flowers were 
tastefully arranged in the avenue that led from the church to 
the mansion. Presently was seen the village schoolmaster, an 
old cripple with a very white head, and with his " four- 
and-twenty free boys" in their blue jackets and cord 
contrivances, and looking all fresh and rosy. Then came the 
schoolmistress, with her " clear-starched " cap, neat muslin 
apron, and demure demeanour, with her " twenty-four girls " 
in " russet brown." 

The boys had their traps, bats, and balls, their kites, their 
stumps and wicket -markers, and were ready for "hog-over 
hie," " prisoners' -base," "stay-out," or any other delightful 
game. And the girls were ready for a dance, or a romp, as 
the occasion might require — or for a roll down the slope, or 
for "hunt-the-slipper," or "honey-pots," or any other ex- 
hilirating game Within the hall were the juveniles of higher 
stamp — there were the good clergyman's sons and daughters, 
three of the former and four of the latter ; there were also 
the sons and daughters of the mayor of the Town; and of the 
half-pay captains in the valley. Then there were the apothe- 
cary's two daughters, so proud that their father's occupation 
disgusted them ; and the steward's two sons, fine, noble look- 
ing youths, so humble, that they looked more like gentlemen, 


titan any other persons. However, pride soon met with a 
fall, for the apothecaries two daughters had a roll down the 
slope without stopping, a ride on the ponies, and a dance with 
the village-school dux — that is the boy who could do " flux- 
ions j " and 1 ong before night, the poor and the rich, the 
rustic and the genteel, mingled in the most delightful har- 
mony imaginable. The good old rector, who was all joy to 
see young people so happy, often found the tears coming into 
his eyes, and all seemed to share his sympathy. 

It would be tedious for me to mention all the " noble 
sports" and funny entertainments the young ones amused 
themselves with during this happy, jolly day — from the 
drawing of a crooked stick for a plough, to the noble game 
of cricket; or hand-kites arose in various directions, or tired 
groups of boys exhausted their games on the great meadow. 
But it was a crowning joy to find the whole assembled at 
nightfall, just as the sun descended to his rest, to partake of 
a sumptuous entertainment, finished well by rich, old black- 
currant wine, and other innocent drinks. To hear the shouts 
— the hearty shouts of the youngsters — to see the beautiful 
rosy cheeks of the village girls, and the freshened looks of 
those, whose false education had made them lack-a-dasical ! 
All were free, and hearty, and joyous, and when the "Hymn 
of Praise" was sung after supper, it appeared to old Peter 
Parley as the most delightful thing of all. 

I wish those who read Peter Parley's Annual would en- 
courage these kind of mysteries. I mean those hundreds of 
rich persons who can give the " children of the poor" a treat 
in such a manner. Our good Queen Victoria has set us 
an example in this particular, which all would do well to 


follow, and poor old Peter says, in consequence 
bless the Queen of England." 

-" God 

God bless tlio Queen of England and happy may she reign, 

T hrough many years of peaceful strength, our freedom to maintain ; 

May "virtue be the brightest gem to sparkle in her crown, 

A loyal people's ardent love the safeguard of her throne. 

Someijmtj aktt B\ip anir jigging. 

THE launch of a " first-rate " man-of-war is one of the 
finest sights in the world, as it exhibits the triumph of 
mechanical genius, and the wonderful perseverance of man. 
The building of such a ship is a work of great skill, labour, 
and assiduity, and no country possesses these qualities in 
greater proportion than Englishmen. It may be interesting 
to my young friends, were I to explain, in brief, the methods 
used in the construction of a ship, that when they see a 
mighty castle floating on the seas, such as the Duke of 
Wellington, carrying one hundred and thirty- one guns, they 
may know something about the means taken to produce such 
gigantic effects. 

In building large ships, a good ship-yard is essential. It 
must be a place to which the tide flows daily, and containing 
a good depth of water, with plenty of room, so that the ship, 
when launched, may not run a- ground. The most celebrated 
ship-yards for the building of men-of-war in England, are 
those of Chatham, Plymouth, Pembroke, and Portsmouth, 
and in these places the building of ships is performed on a 
very grand scale, and very large numbers of workmen are 


The first thing done in ship-building, is, what is called 
" laying down the stocks." The stocks are large masses of 
timber, higher at one end than at the other, forming what is 
called an inclined plane, which is carried out into the water 
some distance, to allow the vessel to be so far immersed, before 
she leaves their support, as nearly to float her. The ship is 
supported in an upright position on the stocks or ways by 
strong pieces of timber, called the cradle, which can be just 
seen in the picture of the launch, jutting out under the stern 
of the ship. The cradle is not fixed to the stocks, but moves 
loosely upon them, and when the ship is to be launched, 
slides down the ways with the ship, and falls to pieces when 
she reaches the water. 

The first thing done when the stocks are built, is the laying 
down of that part of the ship called the keel. This is laid 
down in the middle of the stocks, and is supported by pieces 
of wood placed across the said stocks. On the top of the keel 
branch out, on each side, long, bent, square timbers, called 
the ribs, which, at the lower poop in the middle of the ship, 
form nearly a quarter of a circle on each side, and are after- 
wards carried nearly upright. Upon these timbers, when 
they cross the keel, is laid, in the same direction as the keel, 
another long square timber, called the kelson. The keel and 
kelson are fastened together, at every place where the floor 
timbers cross them, by iron bolts passed through all. That 
portion of the ribs which touches and crosses the keel is 
called the " floor timbers ;" upon the kelson are the steps of 
the masts. 

The ribs are divided into several parts, which are called 
futtocks. To the ribs the planking is nailed, and bolted 


through them ; after which the seams are caulked. This is 
done by forcing oakum, saturated in tar or pitch, into the 
spaces between the planks, when a good coat of tar is laid 
over the whole. That part of the ship which is always 
under water is covered with thin sheets of copper. This is 
done to prevent the attack of a destructive little animal 
called the wood-worm, which eats its way into and through 
the planks, making holes nearly an inch in diameter. These 
holes would, by admitting the water into the hold of the 
ship, soon sink her, as it is impossible to stop the ravages of 
these insects while the ship is at sea. The worm attacks 
every part that is below the water-line in such immense 
numbers, that every plank in the bottom of a vessel that has 
not the protection of copper has been found full of them on 
her arrival into port. 

The ribs of the ship are of a bent form. Of course no tree 
would be large enough to form them of one piece ; they are, 
therefore, made in different lengths, each length being called 
a futtock ; and they are distinguished as first, second, or 
third futtock, according to their position in the ship. These 
are joined together with great exactness : if not joined pro- 
perly the vessel would soon tumble to pieces, for, when on a 
heavy sea, a ship is very much strained in various directions, 
and the creaking noise the timbers make is so dreadful, that 
inexperienced persons think the ship is going to pieces. 

A great deal also depends on the position in which these 
ribs are placed, not only for the purpose of containing her 
cargo, but to enable the ship to sail well. Now, if the 
broadest part be placed too near the stern or after-part of 
the vessel, which is towards you in the drawing of the 


launch, she will not pass through the water so swiftly as she 
would if it were nearer to her bow, or the fore-part of the 

In the after-part of the ship is the captain's cabin ; the 
poop is directly over it ; and here is the quarter-deck ; the 
middle of the upper deck is called the waist or gangway, and 
beyond that (forward) the fore-castle. These are all the 
divisions of the upper-deck, which is largest in the ship, and, 
in some of our great men-of-war, is three hundred feet long 
— the depth of hold being from fifty to sixty, and the 
breadth fifty- five feet. 

The next deck is the main-deck, and immediately under 
the captain's cabin is the admiral's state cabin. In the fore- 
part of the ship is the galley or cook's room, and near to it 
the sick bay. These are the principal divisions of the main- 
deck. A portion of this deck, in front of the admiral's 
cabin, is commonly called the half-deck. 

Under the admiral's cabin is the ward- room, where the 
lieutenants and other commissioned officers mess. This is 
on the middle deck. In the after-part is the gun-room, 
where the mates, some of the midshipmen, the assistant 
masters, and assistant surgeon, and the ship's clerks mess. 

The following are in the hold: — 1. The boatswain's and 
carpenter's store-room ; 2. The powder magazine ; 3. The 
tanks and water- casks; 4. The shot- well ; 5. The pump- 
well; 6. The provision- stores ; 7. The spirit-room; 8. The 
bread-room. The after- magazine is situated under the front 
of the great gun-room. Thus the ship is now described so 
far as her hull is concerned, and now I will say a few words 
about getting in the masts. 



"When this is to be accomplished, which is rather a formidable 
job, the ship is first taken alongside of a shear-hulk, or into 
a dry dock, by the side of which are erected shears. A very 
fine specimen of the latter machinery is to be seen in Wool- 
wich Dock-yard. The shear-hulk is a large, strongly-built 
vessel, and well moored by strong chains in a convenient 
spot on the water, where any ship can approach her. This 
vessel is filted with a strong, perpendicular mast; and two 
others, called the shears, fixed on pivots or hinges to strong 
frame-work on the deck. The upper ends, meeting in a point, 
are suspended by strong latches from the mast-head in a 
slanting direction, leaning to such a distance over the side of 
the hulk, as to hold the mast to be fixed in the ship along- 
side her directly over the holes in the deck; when they are 
lowered into their places, and fixed tight with wedges — of 
course it is only the lower masts that require the adoption 
of this method to fix them in their places — and when their 
great length and consequent weight are considered, it is very 
certain none better could be used. 

The length of the main-mast in a large, first-rate ship, is 
about one hundred and eighty feet from the keel to the top ; 
the main-top-mast is sixty feet ; above it the main-top- 
gallant-mast, forty-four feet, being altogether about two 
hundred and sixty feet, from which, if we deduct fifty-two 
feet, the depth of the hull, we have left two hundred and 
eight feet, the height of the main-mast above the deck. In 
light winds, royal and sky-sail-masts are set, which will add 
from thirty to forty feet to its height. 

Large men-of-war, such as the one I have described, will 
carry a great number of hands ; they frequently amount to a 


thousand, of which two hundred are marines ; yet, although 
a ship is thus thronged with people, the admirable order and 
regularity with which everything is conducted, preserves her 
from many of the disasters to which smaller ships with fewer 
hands are liable. 

It has been ascertained that the actual weight of a seventy- 
four gun-ship, including the hull, rigging, guns, stores, officers 
and men, together with six-months' provisions, amounts to 
two thousand eight-hundred tons, and the quantity of water 
displaced when the ship is afloat is equal to about one 
hundred thousand cubic feet. 

The stowage of large ships is admirable. The live-stock 
often forms a considerable item in a ship's stowage. It is gene- 
rally for the use of the officers, and consists of cows, sheep, 
pigs, and poultry. The latter, and sheep, are stowed away upon 
the main-deck, under the waist, between the guns; and the 
pigs in that part of the ship called the manger, on the lower 
or gun-deck ; the cows are kept in boxes or stalls; the sheep 
in pens, in one or two tiers ; and the poultry in hen-coops. 
The whole are under the charge of the butcher and poulterer. 

I could tell you a great deal more about ships and ship- 
ping, but space prevents me doing so ; and as a great many 
of our ships are now engaged in the war against Russia, it 
will not be out of place to hope that our brave sailors may 
not be " savagely slaughtered" by the Russians, and that the 
Great Bear may have his claws clipped before we have done 
with him. 

n 2 

lltanufattare of |[q|cs. 

HEMP is a plant belonging to the same species as the 
moss and nettle, and the quantity used in Great 
Britain is prodigious. Latterly a large quantity has been 
grown in Ireland, and one of the chief objects of the Irish 
Industrial Exhibition of last year was to promote the indi- 
genous growth of Flax and Hemp. An acre of land in Ireland 
produces on an average thirty-six or thirty-eight stone of 
hemp, and the season for sowing it extends from the 25th of 
March, to the 15th of June. 


What the muscles and sinews are to the human frame, and 
what wings are to birds, ropes and sails are to ships. Their 
manufacture is at all times of the greatest consequence to our 
country, and the celerity with which they can be produced, 
is one of the wonders of this mechanical age. 

The materiel for a great deal of our cordage comes from 
Russia, and more than a million of pounds, of which sixty- 
three make a ton, are annually imported to this country; 
their value is estimated at something more than half-a-million 
sterling. It comes over in large bundles weighing nearly a 
ton each, which are separated into heads or layers, each con- 
taining twelve or fourteen pounds of hemp. 

The qualities of good hemp are a long, fine, and thin fibre, 
free from woody particles, and possessed of strength and 
toughness. The first process it undergoes is that called 
heckling. This is performed in the following manner : — On 
the surface of a small bench before him, each heckeller has 
before him a stand on which are situated, point upwards, a 
number of sharp steel spikes, sixty or seventy in number — 
these constitute what is technically called the " heckle." The 
workman then taking a head or layer of the hemp in his hand, 
strikes it on the points of the heckle and draws it between 
the spikes, repeating the operation several times with each 
head, by which the fibres are straightened, and the thicker 
ones split by the sharp points of the wires, and all the loose 
fragments are loosened and fall to the ground. 

The fibres now drawn out into long parallel threads, have 
to undergo the process of twisting. The fibre has to be 
twisted into yarn, the yarns into rope. A rope consists of 
several parts, and in most cases, is a twisting within a twisting, 



being built up by threes. In tbe subjoined figure we have a 
ship's rope or cable. A. B. B. B. shows the three smaller 
ropes which forms it. C. the three ropes called strands, and 

dissecting one of these, D. we find it to be composed of a 
number of threads called yarns, and if we untwist one of the 
yarns, we arrive finally at the hempen-fibres themselves. 

The first stage, therefore, of making hemp into rope, is 
spinning it into yarn, and this brings us at once to what is 


technically called the " rope-walk," a long narrow space of 
ground, at one end of which is a wheel, three or four feet in 
diameter, round which a band passes in such a manner as to 
give rotation to a small number of hoots or whirls disposed 
round a semicircular frame above the wheel. Each spinner 
has a bundle of hemp round his waist, the double or bight 
being in front and the ends crossing each other behind. 
With his left hand he draws out a few fibres and fastens them 
on one of the hooks with his right, which holds a piece of 
thick woollen cloth — he grasps these fibres, a boy then turns 
the wheel and the spinner walks backwards — the man draws 
out more and more fibres from his bundle as he recedes, and 
the twist which is given to them by the rotation of the hooks 
on the wheel makes each length of fibre entangle itself 
among those previously drawn out; while the pressure of 
the right hand regulates the hardness or closeness of the 
twist. The spinner, by his long practice and skill, is enabled 
to make any description of yarn, either fine or coarse, by 
the manner in which he supplies the hemp to the revolving 
wheel, and can produce with the greatest nicety, any given 
length of yarn from a given weight of hemp. Each spinner 
can make about a thousand feet of yarn in about twelve 

This process is in many manufactories performed by 
machinery, but the hand-made yarn is decidedly the best. 
When a spinning walk is in full operation, there are twelve 
spinners at different parts of its length, in three groups, each 
group being distant three or four hundred feet from the next 
adjoining, and all the twelve hooks or whirls of the wheel 
being engaged at once. As the yarns are twisted, they are 


wound in large bundles upon reels, each reel containing 
about two-hundred-and -fifty rounds of yarn. 

If the hemp should be used for the manufacture of tarred 
rope — the yarn is now tarred — the reels of yarn are first 
warped into a haul, that is, the yarns are unwound from 
the reel and stretched out straight and parallel, and assem- 
bled together in a large group, called " a haul," consisting of 
between three and four hundred yarns, each a hundred feet 
long. The haul is dipped into a copper of hot tar, and, 
being dragged through a grip or gauge, the superfluous tar is 
squeezed out ; by the aid of a capstan the haul is gradually 
drawn forward until the whole has passed through the tar 

The next process in the formation of a rope is the making 
of the strand. This may be composed of any number of 
yarns — in a cable twelve inches in circumference there are 
eighty yarns in a strand, and in the very largest rope cables 
three hundred and sixty ; however, few if any ropes are now 
made of the last dimensions, as chain cables have superseded 
hempen cables of large size ; the latter being, in the present 
day, seldom more than twelve inches in circumference, except 
for Her Majesty's navy. 

The making of the strand of a rope is now performed by 
machinery. A frame consisting of a great variety of bob- 
bins, each loaded with yarn and posted upon a pivot so as to 
rotate easily, occupies one end of the factory; the ends of 
all these yarns, from twenty to eighty, are made to pass 
through an equal number of small holes in a convex plate 
attached to the central machine, and then combined into one 
close group. This group next passes through a tube, whose 


diameter is such as to compress the yarns into close contact, 
and lastly is wound on a large reel attached to the machine. 
Meanwhile the twist is given to the strand by a remarkable 
arrangement — the whole of the machinery from the tube to 
the reel rotates round a horizontal axis, and in so doing im- 
parts a twist to the strand, which is passing round the 
various wheels. The different arrangements are very 
beautiful. In the first place each bobbin rotating separately 
on its axle, gives off just as much yarn as the strand requires, 
so that all become equally strained by the outer yarns being 
somewhat longer than the inner. Then the arrangement of 
the holes in the plate and of the tube bring all the yarns 
to their proper position in the strand, and lastly by changing 
the wheels in the machine, the strand becomes more or less 
hard by twisting at a more or less acute angle. If the strand 
be drawn more swiftly through, while the machine is re- 
volving with a given velocity, the intensity or closeness of 
the twist is diminished, if less swiftly then the twist is 
increased. Such are some of the beautiful results of 

To twist the strands into a rope is called " laying " a rope . 
In the laying walk a revolving wheel placed near the end is 
provided with hooks, whereon the three strands to form the 
rope are fixed. These hooks are made to rotate by the action 
of the wheel, its prime mover being horse or steam-power. 
At the other end of the walk all the strands are fixed to one 
hook, which revolves in an opposite direction to the others. 
To equalize the hardness of the twist or lay, a conical or rather 
bee-hived piece of wood called a "top" is inserted between the 
three strands — groves being cut in the surface of the " top" for 



their reception. This " top V thus placed prevents the strands 
from twisting, except in the direction of the smaller end ; 
while a man stationed immediately behind, compresses the 
rope by a simple piece of apparatus, and causes the twist to 
become hard and firm. The "top" as the rope closes behind it 
is slowly urged on from one end to the other — if small it is 
managed by a top-man, but if large it is supported on a 
carriage, as in the engraving. No difference exists in making 


a larger or smaller rope, so far as the principle is concerned. 
The three strands are twisted round each other in the same 
manner by an apparatus more or less powerful according to 
the size of the rope. 

From three such ropes as these a cable is formed in 
precisely the same manner, the three being fixed to three 
revolving hooks at one end, and one at the other, and a 
travelling top being used to regulate and harden the twist. 
In the twisting process it is natural that the rope should 
gradually shorten as it is formed ; provision is made for this 



shortening in the arrangement of the apparatus. The wheels 
to which the three strands are fixed on three separate hooks 
is a fixture at one end of the walk, but the other ends of the 
strands are fastened to a moveable sledge, which is so 
weighted as to travel gradually up the walk just as fast as 
the rope diminishes in length. 

for |to$alk 

WHO has not heard the curious history of San Rosalia, 
the saint of Palermo, whose name is prefixed to this 
article ? She was, according to the legend, the daughter of 
William the Good, who reigned in the year 1159. At the age 
of fifteen she retired to Monte Pelegrino, in order to spend 
the remainder of her life in religious solitude ; and a period of 
nearly five hundred years elapsed without her ever being 
heard of. In 1624, a plague, which threatened to depopulate 
the capital, raged at Palermo. A hermit, whose name is not 
given in the legend, dreamed that the bones of the saint were 
on the top of Mount Pelegrino, and that, if they were carried 
in procession round the walls of the city, the plague would 
cease. After prayers and supplications, he induced a number 
of persons to go in procession to the top of the mountain, 
where the remains of Rosalia were found in a cave. Some say 
that the body was fresh, and looked as if she had died at the 
age of fifteen, while others assert that there were only the 
bones. Which account is the true one Peter Parley does not 
pretend to inquire ; but one thing is certain, that they were 
carried round the city walls, and the plague greatly ceased. 



This was accounted as a miracle, and churches were built to 
her honor. A chapel was erected on the top of the mountain 
were she was found, and priests appointed to perform divine 



To facilitate the approach to these sacred relics, the pious 
and grateful Palermotans, after immense labour, constructed 
on the face of the mountain a road which is nearly perpen- 
dicular, and very dangerous. This, however, by no means 


operates as a check to the devotion of the hundreds who seek 
the protection and patronage of the saints. 

In the vault heneath the chapel, which has long been the 
resting-place for her bones, there was an inscription, which 
differs from the monkish legend. It states her to be the 
daughter of Count Sinibaldus, who lived at the period when 
the irruptions of the Saracens were so frequent in Italy, and 
that Rosalia first retired to a cave on Mount Quesquina, in 
order to preserve herself from the disciples of Mohammed, 
and afterwards to Mount Pelegrino, where she died a nun. 

The bones of this Saint are now annually carried about the 
City in a large silver box ; and, according to popular belief, 
she has, several times since her discovery, saved the Sicilians 
from the plague. Long before the celebration of the festival 
she becomes the subject of general conversation, and excites 
the greatest interest. Her triumphal car is made of very 
great height, and drawn through the principal streets by a 
number of caparisoned mules, preceded by dragoons with 
trumpets. On the lower part of the conveyance is an orches- 
tra, and above it is a small temple, in the interior of which 
are figures of different saints, and, on the top of all, a large 
statue of San Rosalia. Every side of the carriage is decorated 
with flowers ; and during the ceremony the streets are crowded 
with people, and the windows, to all of which are balconies, 
are filled with ladies. At night there is an illumination. 

The amusements at this Palermo rejoicing vary each day. 
One night the Flora gardens are illuminated, on another one 
of the streets, and, in the day-time, horse-races. The latter, 
from their peculiarities, are worthy of notice. The horses 
start from the bottom of the principal street, near the Porto 


Felice, and run to the Porto Nuovo. They have no riders, 
but have small bladders fixed on their backs, in which are in- 
serted sharp spikes, serving by the motion to urge them on. 
The prizes run for are generally small, consisting of from ten 
to fifteen ounces in dollars, fastened to a board ; and the horse 
that wins is led in procession, with the prize before him. 

The illumination of the Madre Chiesa, which is the cathe- 
dral church of Palermo, excites the admiration of all travel- 
lers. It is here where the box containing the bones of St. 
Rosalia is deposited. The last ceremony is a grand proces- 
sion, in which the silver box is carried by the principal citizen. 
Immense crowds endeavour to get near it to touch it, for they 
consider it a remedy for all evils. 

The approach of the festival produces general joy and hap- 
piness ; and the people are so attached to the memory of the 
Saint, that it is supposed that any attempt to suppress her 
commemoration would be attended with the most serious 


Cjjrkta gag at % §ispg3, 

GOLD is now every man's business. The eartli is yielding 
it by the hand-full and spade-full. Already nearly fifty 
millions sterling have been raised by the rude exertions of a 
part of the population who might have been starving upon 
six-shillings a~week, in delving and ditchiDg. And it is a 
wonderful sight to see thousands upon thousands of brisk, 
brawny, and sturdy men, in their shirt-sleeves washing the 
productive earth, and rocking the gold to rest in their 
own pockets — the finest of all kinds of cradling. Boys and 
girls too even lend their aid. The boys are trained in the 
digging, and the girls in the washing — the boys find the 
" pockets *' as they are called, and the girls make purses for 
it. Along the banks of the various creeks, it is delightful to 
see the throng of men and boys, and girls and women, busy 
with tin dishes and cradles, making their ounces and half- 
ounces of " pure, bright, slippery gold M in a- day. 

But one of the most beautiful of all sights is to see a 
" Christmas Day " at the diggings. Here, in Australia, there 
are no " snow-flakes thickly falling," — no drifts twenty or 
thirty feet high — no coughing, wheezings, and sneezings — no 
swamps and sore throats, quinseys and influenzas — no noses 


i s/j/.o/aJ-aa,'?// /s/i-'r^//, )/?(?//// 


blue and fingers numbed — dark skies and piercing north- 
easters — but lovely, balmy, warm, clear, bright sunshine, and 
the plum- pudding, and the roast beef, and the mince pies, 
and all the other delicious viands of which England is so 
proud, smoke upon the grass sward, beneath the delicious 
shade of overhanging boughs, and redolent with all the 
ambrosial gifts of nature. And joy reigns there in all its 
fullest majesty : and love reigns there in all its holiest excess 
of affection : and hope reigns there, looking boldly upon the 
future. Nor is faith absent entirely — though the sound of the 
"church-going bell" is not heard — although no organ peal 
ascends in the fretted vault — yet the mind of the good man 
turns to " God and to his worship," and the joyful time of 
merry Christmas is not spent without remembrance of Him 
who brought "peace on earth and good-will to man." And 
thus it is that Christmas Day at the Diggings is a true holiday 
to all, and that joy and mirth abound, to the delight of hearts 
who do not forget their old homes and their old religion, but 
pledge them with prayers, and blessings, and songs of gladness. 
So let us remain, my young friends, wherever it may please 
a good God to cast us — true to our country, to our religion, to 
our institutions, our old friends, and to all that we loved, or 
that is worthy of love : and. let us never forget our old 
customs — our " Easters," our " Whitsuntides," and our 
" Christmases," and all those old things which our infancy, 
our youth, and our manhood have consecrated to the best of 
thoughts and of feelings, and which have engendered so 
many happy hours among us. ". Hurrah ! then/' says Old 
Peter Parley, " for a Christmas Day at the Diggings." 



Owl ! that lovest the boding shy — 

In the murky air, 

"What saw'st thou there ? 
For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry. 

" The maple's head 

"Was glowing red, 

THE OWL. 203 

And red were the wings of the Autumn sky ; 

But a redder gleam 

Kose from the stream, 
That dabbled my feet, as I glided by ! " 

Owl ! that Iovest the stormy shy, 

Speak ! oh speak ! 

What crimson'd thy beak, 
And hung on the lids of thy staring eye ? 

"'Twas blood! 'twas blood.! 

And it rose like a flood, 
And for this I screamed as I glided by." 

Owl ! that Iovest the midnight sky, 
Again, again — 
Where are the twain ? 
Look ! while the moon is hurrying by — < 
"In the thicket's shade 
The one is laid ; 
You may see, through the boughs, his moveless eye." 

Owl ! that Iovest the darkened sky, 

A step beyond 

Prom the silent pond, 
There rose a low and murmuring cry 

" O'er the water's edge, 

Through the trampled sedge 
A bubble burst, and gurgled by ; 

My eyes were dim, 

But I looked from the brim, 
And I saw, in the weeds, a dead man lie !" 

o 2 

204 THE OWL. 

Owl ! that loyest the moonless sky, 

"Where the casements blaze 

With the faggot's rays, 
L:>ok ! oh look ! what secst thou there ? 

Owl ! what's this ? — 

That snort and hiss ? 
And why do thy feathers shiver and stare ? 

"'Tis he! 'tis he! 

He sits 'mid the three — 
And a breathless woman is on the stair." 

Owl ! that lovest the cloudy sky, 

Where clank the chains 

Through the prison panes 
What there thou hearest tell to me ! 

" In her midnight dream, 

Tis a woman's scream, 
And she calls on one — on one of the three," 

Look in once more, 

Through the grated door, 
" 'Tis a soul that prays in agony." 

Owl ! that hatest the morning sky, 

On thy pinions gray — 

Away ! away ! 
I must pray in charity, 

From midnight chime, 

To morning prime, 
" Miserere, Dcviine." 

fflml k tk %ml WMtthut Iiistittttbit. 

NO sooner do we enter, and pay our shilling at the door, 
then "bang, bang, bang" goes the gong — a Lecture on 
" a New Method of Blowing-up Sunken Vessels" is announced. 
Do our young friends recollect the circumstance of the sinking 
at Spithead of one of our largest men-of-war, the " Royal 
George ?" a very beautiful model of which is to be found in 
the Museum for Shipping and Maritime Apparatus ; the 
circumstances are so well known, that we will presume you 
not to be ignorant. Well, some years after the accident, a 
plan was projected by Colonel Pasley, of the Royal Engineers, 
for raising the guns and other valuables which were, of course, 
carried down with the ship ; this plan was founded upon the 
well-proved law of electricity — that if the wire which conducts 
that wonderful agent be intercepted by a short piece of plati- 
num wire, exceedingly small in diameter, and placed within 
a membrane impervious to water, and surrounded by a charge 
of gunpowder, a partial impediment to the passage of the 
electric fluid necessarily takes place, and the small platinum 
wire is made red-hot — and my young friends well know that 
if a piece of red-hot wire be placed in contact with gunpowder, 
that it will readily explode ; hence, if a sufficient charge be 


placed within the vessel, the explosion would separate the 
timbers of the ship, and, by their floating properties, they 
would rise to the surface, and leave behind any great weight, 
such as guns, &c. ; by the aid of the diver, then, they are 
attached to air cylinders, and floated to the surface. But to 
accomplish this, there are many reasons why more simplicity 
should be employed, and for this purpose the Lecture we 
allude to was given, embracing as it does a more simple plan. 
The invention is patented by a gentleman named Trestrail, of 
Southampton, and is as follows : — An air-tight vessel is fitted 
up with a coil of " fuse/' as it is called, consisting of a kind 
of flexible tube filled with gunpowder, and coated with a 
pitchy substance, to prevent its coming into contact with the 
water, which would, you know, destroy its explosive condi- 
tion. This fuse will continue to burn under water for almost 
any distance, and was formerly used for the purpose of blast- 
ing rocks, blowing up sunken vessels, &c. ; but the adaptation 
of Mr. Trestrail differs from this method, from the material 
or fuse being in the case, which is to raise the object from the 
bottom, by generating the gases contained in gunpowder, 
which gases are nitrogen, carbonic oxide, sulphurous acid, 
deutoxide of nitrogen, and carbonic acid gas, in different pro- 
portions. But this is going from our subject — you must read 
Chemistry to understand this. However, these gases force the 
water from the cylinders, and of course take its place ; then, 
you know that the specific gravity or weight of the gas is so 
much less than the same bulk of water, that it has a buoyant 
property and rises to the surface, bringing with it whatever, in 
the judgment of the diver, it is capable of lifting. Many 
thousand pounds' worth of property is now lying: nt the 


bottom of the sea and rivers, which seems a pity when so 
simple a method can bring them again to " terra firma." 
After this Lecture, which was illustrated in a large tank of 
water in the centre of the Great Hall of the Institution, we 
walked around to look at the immense collection of models 
of all new discoveries in science. There was the magnificent 
model of the Britannia Bridge. — The machinery, which com- 
mences by taking the cotton from the pod, cleans it from the 
seed by means of rollers ; then it is passed through another 
instrument called a carding machine, being a series of wires 
so placed as to tear the cotton asunder, and lay it in a beau- 
tiful sheet on the surfaces of the wires ; from thence it is 
collected by a most elegant and ingenious contrivance, 
formed into a fillet, and then placed on the roving frame ; 
thence it passes into the spinning frame and becomes thread, 
which is again used in an exhibition of the lace manufacture, 
by a beautiful model machine. 

In close proximity to this machine, we observe a model light- 
house, fixed on a black substance for its base : this substance 
is very curious, and requires a little explanation. In Trinidad, 
in the West Indies, there is a Lake of Bitumen. A stream 
of this Bitumen (which you know is a sort of pitch) flowed 
in distant ages, through a channel two thousand yards in 
length to the beach, and thence six hundred yards into the sea, 
carrying with it all the loose materials encountered in its pro- 
gress. This now constitutes a promontory, whereon the 
action of the waves and atmosphere, under a tropical sun, 
have had no deteriorating effect. This fact led to investiga- 
tion, and now it is used as foundations to lighthouses, piers, 
jetties, bridges, &c, as well as water-pipes, instead of lead, 


which you know will combine chemically with, the consti- 
tuents of water, and convert that water into a deleterious 
compound. "When Admiral, the Earl of Dundonald, (to 
whom this pitch belongs,) was Commander-in-Chief of the 
West India Station, he made many experiments on this 
wonder of nature, and has patented its application to very 
many useful purposes ; his lordship laid down, from the lake 
to the shore, a series of pipes, which Avere manufactured by 
his sailors, and which pipes enabled the ships on the station 
to obtain excellent fresh water, without the difficulty of 
carrying it overland, which, in that hot climate, would have 
been very inconvenient. These pipes have been found as 
strong as iron ones of the same admeasurement. It is also 
applied to the coating of the wires of the Electric Telegraph 
with great advantage. 

On we go to the upper gallery, and find the gigantic 
reflectors for illustrating the laws of reflection of heat, light, 
&c, which, singularly enough, are governed by the same 
law ; sometimes by these instruments a mutton-chop is 
placed in the focus of one of them, and at one hundred feet 
distant a fire is placed in the other ; the result is, that the 
chop is cooked, or a candle may be lighted by the same means 
at the same distance : this is by reflection. Well, another 
bang of the gong, and away we go to hear a Lecture on " the 
Process of Marbling and Decorating Paper." By-the-bye, that 
gong is a curious instrument, being composed of a large steel 
spring, coiled round in an open coil, and terminating in a 
standard. On being struck with a hammer it emits a 
melodious sound, like the tone of a church bell, for which 
it has been proposed to be used, and is patented for this 


purpose ; and no doubt, in a short time, these instruments will 
be so improved and tuned, so as to do duty for a whole 
peal of bells. The Marbling of Paper has never yet 
been made public, the trade having carried the process on 
in perfect secrecy, so as to retain a monopoly — which is a 
very bad thing, as it prevents many improvements being 
made, which would much increase its sphere of utility ; the 
simplicity of the process, however, has been now brought 
forward by the public spirit of a gentleman named Woolnoth, 
to whom the world should be much obliged for upsetting 
monopoly, and breaking down principles which tend to 
frustrate rather than accelerate improvements in science. 
The process commences by making a solution of the "gum 
tragacanth," and which is called in the shops, " gum dragon ; ; ' 
this solution being brought to a proper consistency, is placed 
in a long flat vessel, sufficiently superficial to allow a large 
sheet of paper to be placed on its surface. Well, having 
prepared this apparatus, which requires great nicety, the 
workman, having his colours already mixed, sprinkles on the 
surface of the gum solution a sufficient quantity, first of 
one colour and then another, until he obtains the required 
pattern. But the philosophy of obtaining this pattern remains 
to be told. The colours are mixed with such materials as 
cause them to repel when they come in contact with each 
other, in the same manner as oil does when dropped on 
water. The material thus made use of is gall taken from the 
bladder of an ox. This substance has the curious property of 
preventing the colours from mixing with each other ; for in- 
stance, if a sprinkle of lake be first put on the surface of the 


gum (there being no absorption of colour as there would be 
on paper,) and another colour having gall ground with it be 
sprinkled over this, the two colours, instead of mixing, would 
immediately repel each other, and form a curious pattern, each 
colour forming its own particular shape, and this may be 
carried on to any number of colours ; it is applied to various 
purposes, such as covering copy-books, and the edges of books. 
For many years this invention was confined to the Dutch 
Avorkmen, and the patterns produced by them are still called 
the "old Dutch patterns;" but an Englishman discovered the 
means by which this pattern was obtained, and by his ingenuity 
veiy much improved the application, and this improvement, 
although still suffering from the same secrecy in England 
with which it was encumbered in Holland, bids fair to de- 
velop many improvements, of which the pubhc spirit of Mr. 
AVoolnoth has rendered it susceptible. Based upon these 
circumstances, Messrs. De La Rue, the famous card-makers, 
set their ingenuity to work, and have produced such won- 
derful advantages, that the papers now introduced by them are 
perfect gems of art — the " iridescent film," as it is by them 
technically called, giving on the surface of highly- glazed 
paper all the beautiful colours of the rainbow. It is singular, 
that if an exceedingly thin film of a gummy varnish be floated 
on the surface of the water, a sheet of paper placed thereon may 
be taken off, having all the splendid colours referred to. But 
to perfectly understand the process it should be seen, and this 
is easily done by a visit to that delightful place of recreation, 
the Royal Polytechnic Institution. So many are the attrac- 
tions of this Temple of Science, that we intend to pny it 



another visit ; and no doubt, from the constant additions which 
are daily made to the Museum, we shall find matter with 
which to entertain and instruct our readers; bearing in mind 
that while the brain is engrossed with useful things, there is 
no room for vicious and useless thoughts. 

tmsaj/t of % gtsctt 

ALL the young people who Lave read Peter Parley's 
Annual for the last fifteen years, know well enough 
what the Desert is. Some of thern also may have heard, now- 
and-then, of its dangers. They are, of course, varied. There is 
the danger by heat, the danger by thirst, and the danger from 
the wild robbers, who prowl about like wolves upon its arid 
bosom. It was in the year 1850, that Edwin Keet, a travel- 
ler of great enterprise, who had not only mounted the Nile 
and Pyramids, and smoked a pipe with the famous Mehemet 
Ali, but, what is of far greater consequence, had spent many a 
happy day with Peter Parley, made the journey. Keet was 
not to be overcome by trifles. He had proceeded across the 
desert to Aleppo, and met with no serious molestation until 
he was within fifteen miles of Bassora, when earlv one morn- 
ing he perceived himself followed by a party of about thirty 
Arabs, mounted on camels, who soon overtook him. As they 
approached, he, by his interpreter, directed them either to 
advance or halt. Keet was not alone — he had half-a-dozen 
Englishmen with him, two of whom were Lieutenants in the 
Navy, one a rough old sailor, and the remaining three his 
servants. He again called upon the Arabs to halt, or to 



remove to the right or left of him, for he choose to travel by 
himself. Thev answered thev would not interfere with him, 
and went on at a brisk rate. Keet then suspected them of 
some design, and kept himself upon his guard. The two 


lieutenants prepared their pistols, and the sailors drew their 
cutlasses. The Arab party proceeded only a few miles, and 
slunk behind some rising ground in the distance : — this move, 
however, did not escape the quick eye of Jim Crank, one of 
sailors, who had been boatswain's-mate onboard the " Fairy," 
and knew how to keep a good look out a-head. As the party 
proceeded, they came to the range of little hillocks behind 
which the Arabs had crouched, like so many tigers, to spring 
on their prey. Keet and his companions were well mounted. 
It is true that the lieutenants nor the sailors sat on their horses 
to the best advantage. All had got their stirrups too high, 
and looked more like old women on horseback than men, with 
the exception of Keet, who rode firm, slowly, and high on his 
saddle. " Now my lads/' said he, "we have only to sell our 
lives as dearly as possible — if we must die, let us die like 
Englishmen — if we falter or flee, our destruction is certain — 
if we dare the rascals, and give them two or three good volleys, 
they may chance to quail, and we must trust to our good 
horses to get us out of the fray. Here are eight of us, and 
we must be prepared to form a square — to make a round, or 
to make an angle, if necessary. So stand to your arms, my 
lads, and let me go in advance. Don't give way, nor attempt 
to flee while you can fight, for it is fighting alone can save 
us." So Keet placed himself at the head of his little army of 
seven, and advanced. 

He had not marched far before he saw the caps of the 
Arabs dodging behind some of the loose stones, topping 
hillocks before them. And, from what he could observe, it was 
clear that the foe was in ambuscade, and preparing to let 
fly at them as they passed. Keet's mind was made up in a 



minute as to the best course to pursue ; so calling to his people 
to follow him, and do as he did, as the only course they had, 
he rode quietly forward at a slow pace, but just as he got 
abreast of the stone-work of the hillocks, he made a sharp 


detour to tlie right, and passing round the hillocks, attacked 
the Arabs suddenly in flank on the other side. Bang ! bang! 
bang! bang! from four of the double-barreled muskets, and 
four of the Arabs fell from their camels. Keet spurred on, 
and attacked the leader sword in hand, but he was speedily- 
unhorsed by the thrust of a spear into his back. At the 
very moment of his falling, however, he took out one of his 
pistols, and blew out the chieftain's brains. The boatswain's 
mate, at the same time, cut down the lance-man who had 
thus intruded on Keet's rear quarters. The two lieutenants 
had adroitly jumped off their horses, and, from a secure em- 
brasure of the rocks above the hillocks, kept loading and 
firing their pieces with the utmost expedition, and eleven or 
twelve of the Arabs were soon prostrate. The remainder, 
observing the warm reception, and perceiving Keet, although 
on the ground, valiantl} r and deliberately loading his rifle and 
pistols, and feeling the " peppering" of the other sailor and the 
lieutenants, and being not a little astonished at the conduct 
of Jim Crank — who kept leaping, hollowing, firing, and 
shouting like a wild demon, and calling them all the wicked 
names of which the English tongue is so capable — began to 
sheer off, and, in a very short time, nothing was seen of 
them but a small cloud of dust far away in the desert. The 
remainder of the journey was passed without molestation, 
and Keet and his companions arrived safe at Bassora. 

i i^ ^Nsj is^^^r^ 

(Ilastonkrg %hhq. 


GLASTONBURY is called by Fuller "the ground of God 
— the first ground of the saints in England, and the rise 
and fountain of all religion in Britain/ 51 Because, " it was 
here/' says the tradition, "that Christianity was first intro- 
duced into England." 

But the early history of the introduction of Christianity 
into these islands, is veiled in considerable obscurity. We 
see the " Light of the Word" shining here fully enough, but 
we see not they who kindled it. The honour of first evan- 
gelizing England has, indeed, been confidently ascribed to 
various individuals, and, amongst others, to Joseph of 

The legend states, that when St. Philip, the Apostle, after 
the death of our blessed Saviour, was in Gaul, he was in- 
formed of the heathenish wickedness of this country. To 
England he therefore resolved to extend the influence of his 
precepts and influence, over barbarous and bloody rites, 
long exercised by bigoted and besotted Druids — to introduce 
the meek and gentle system of Christianity. Accordingly 



he dispatched twelve of his companions and followers, and 
appointed Joseph of Arimathea, who had not long before 
taken his Saviour from the Cross, to superintend the sacred 
embassy. Britain was wild and uncultivated — its inhabitants 
rude and inimical to strangers — yet, withal, its King Arviragus 
could foster a few itinerants, whom he knew not how to hate, 
nor wished to love. In consideration of their long and 
laborious journey, he disposed their habitation in a small 


island, then waste and unfilled, and surrounded by bogs and 
morasses, assigning to each of the " twelve " a certain portion 
of land, called a " hide," sufficient for one family to live upon ; 
and composing in all, a territory denominated, to this day, 
" the twelve hides of Glaston," and here, according to the 
monastic annals, St. Joseph erected to the honour of the 
Blessed Virgin Mary — of wattles and wreathed twigs — the 
first Christian Oratory in England. 

This legend, however, wants much of truthfulness, I fear. 
I don't see what connection there could be between Joseph 
of Arimathea and Glastonbury. Be that as it may — a more 
substantial structure was erected on the spot named above, 
in the year 180 after Christ, owing to the exertions of 
some Christian Missionaries. In the year 439 we are 
told that St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, visited this 
holy spot, and collected together a body of clergy, being 
himself elected as the first Abbot. About the year, 530, 
St. David, Archbishop of Manevia, accompanied by seven 
bishops, took a journey to A.valon, and expended large sums 
of money, in adding to the building of the church. St. 
David was uncle to the renowned King Arthur, who, in his 
time (a.d. 543), having been mortally wounded in battle, was 
carried to this abbey to be interred, and, accordingly, on his 
death his body here found a grave. In the reign of Henry 
II., 640 years after Arthur was buried, his grave was opened, 
and the body of the king discovered interred in a coffin made 
of oak, sixteen feet deep, and nine feet below a rude leaden 
cross, on which the name and virtues of Arthur were 

Such is one of the " stories" of Glastonbury — and I 

p 2 



forgot to say that, in the churchyard, still stands the cele- 
brated " Glastonbury thorn," said to be derived from the 
rod of Joseph, of Arimathea, and which always blossoms 
on Christmas Day. 

% fefo torts atari Biulh §lm%. 

IT appears from ancient testimony, that there have been 
many successful attempts at making glass mouldable in 
its cold state, or of so far altering its state as to render 
it malleable. There is a tradition, that a clever artist, in the 
time of Tiberius Caesar, made glass both elastic and malleable, 
for which he was rewarded by the loss of his head. A similar 
discovery is said to have been made in France, in the reign of 
Louis XIII. The inventor presented a bust, formed of malle- 
able glass, to the Cardinal Richelieu, and was rewarded for 
his ingenuity by perpetual imprisonment, lest the French 
glass-makers should be injured. In our day, a description of 
glass, perhaps more remarkable, has been discovered by Mr. 
Fuchs, the curious properties and important applications of 
which it will be proper to advert to in this place. 

The preparation of soluble glass does not greatly differ in 
its early stages from that of common glass. It is a union of 
silica and an alkali, which has, in addition to some of the 
properties of common glass, the property of dissolving in boil- 
ing water. 

To form this compound, carbonate of potash and stone sand, 
are taken in the proportion of two, to three, or four parts of 


charcoal, and added to every ten parts of potash, and fifteen 
of sand. The charcoal accellerates the fashion of the glass, 
and separates from it all the carbonic acid, a small quantity 
of which would otherwise remain and be injurious. The 
materials must first be well mixed, then fritted and finally 
melted at a high heat, until a liquid and homogenous mass be 
obtained. This is removed by means of an iron ladle, and 
the glass-pot filled with fresh grit. 

The crude glass thus obtained is usually full of bubbles ; 
it is as hard as common glass — it is of a blackish gray, and 
more or less transparent at the edges. In order to prepare 
it for solution in water, it must be reduced to powder by 
pounding. One part of this glass requires from four to five 
of water for its solution. The water is first boiled in an 
open vessel; the powdered glass is added gradually, and is 
continually stirred to prevent adhesion. The boiling is 
continued for three or four hours, until no more glass is 
dissolved. If the boiling be checked before the liquor has 
thus attained the proper degree of concentration, carbonic 
acid will be absorbed by the potash from the air, which will 
produce an injurious effect. When the solution has acquired 
the consistency of syrup, and a density of 1*24, it is fit for 
use, and will keep for any length of time. 

The solution of soluble glass is viscid, and when concen- 
trated, becomes turbid or opalescent. The solution unites 
with water in all proportions. At a density of 1*28 it 
contains nearly twenty-eight per cent, of glass, and if the 
concentration be carried beyond that point, it becomes so 
viscid that it may be drawn out in threads like molten 
glass. When the solution is applied to other bodies it dries 



rapidly in the air, and forms a coat like varnish, and 
possesses the quality of not being affected by cold water, 
and it is applied as a durable coating to a vast variety of 

None of the methods hitherto proposed for making cloth 
fire-proof appear so advantageous as the application of soluble 
glass, for it does not act upon the vegetable matter, and 
completely closes the spaces between the threads. It can 
also be applied to clothes ; but one of its most useful properties 
is its application as a cement ; and, for this purpose, it is 
superior to all those that have hitherto been employed for 
cementing broken glass, porcelain, &c, and may be used 
instead of glue or isinglass in applying colors. 

Mitetjmtg akrf §01% Springs. 

IN various parts of the world, we have a Springs," pos- 
sessing curious properties. Some spout up " mud," some 
throw up a kind of "pitch/' others give forth waters strongly- 
impregnated with " copper," and some again, bubble with 
water full of " iron," then we have " salt " springs, and 
even " quicksilver " springs — but the most remarkable, are 
the "boiling" springs, and of these, the most celebrated 
are those of Iceland. One of the most enrapturing scenes 
I ever witnessed, was that of these Boiling springs ; which 
I first saw on the morning of the 30th of July, while on my 
visit to Iceland, in Captain Cox's yacht. We walked for 
some time over a barren district, but at last were arrested by 
the roaring of Stockr, which threw up a great quantity of steam, 
and while we stood gazing and wondering what would come next 
— a crash took place as if the earth had burst, which was in- 
stantaneously succeeded by jets of water and steam, rising 
in a perpendicular column, to the height of sixty-feet. But 
Stockr had not been in action above twenty miuutes, when 
the Great Geyser, apparently jealous of the reputation, and 
indignant at our bestowing so much of our time and applause 
on her rival, began to thunder tremendouslv, and emitted 



such quantities of water and steam, that we could not be 
satisfied with a distant view — but hastened to the mound 
with as much curiosity as if it had been the first eruption we 

had beheld. However, if she was more interesting in point 
of magnitude, she gave the less satisfaction in point of 
duration, having again become tranquil in the course of five 
minutes, whereas, her less grand, but more steady com- 


panion continued to play till within four minutes of six 

My attention was so much taken up with these two powerful 
fountains, that we had little time or inclination to watch 
the numerous inferior springs with which the country 
abounds. The little Geyser erupted, perhaps, twelve times 
in the twenty-four hours, but none of its jets rose higher than 
eighteen or twenty feet, and, generally, they were about ten or 
twelve. The pipe of this spring opens into a beautiful 
circular basin, about twelve feet in diameter, the surface of 
which exhibits encrustations equally beautiful with those of 
the great Geyser. At the depth of a few feet, the pipe which 
is scarcely three feet wide, becomes very irregular, yet its 
depth has been ascertained to be thirty-eight feet. There is 
a large steam hole at a short distance to the north-west of the 
little Geyser, which roars and becomes quiescent with the 
operations of that spring. 

On the brow of the hill, at the height of nearly two- 
hundred feet above the level of the great Geyser, are several 
holes of burning clay, some of which produce sulphur and 
the effervescence of alum ; and, at the base of the hill, on 
the opposite side, are not less than twenty springs — which 
prove that its foundations are entirely perforated with veins 
and cavities of hot water. 

Such is a very brief account of a late visit to this pheno- 
menon, which was very interesting, for in some of the erup- 
tions, the jets were thrown to the height of at least a- 
hund red- and- fifty feet, and the effect of sunlight on these 
columns of water is such as to leave an indelible impression 
on the minds of those who witness it. 

ilorj of % American |fts Serpent. 


THE Americans equal Mr. Jesse for story-telling. They 
are not particularly nice as to data. Some of their tales 
are so preposterously absurd as to puzzle us exceedingly, and 
we are obliged to confess that Brother Jonathan is quizzing 
us. But still Jonathan is a brother, and a warm-hearted, 
noble, faithful, brother too; and we must not be too hard 
upon him concerning his funny stories. He sets us an 
example in many things, and we Britons ought to feel that 
he is of our own^ flesh, blood, bones, and sinews, and go the 
entirety of good things with him at all times. But this is 
nothing to do with my story, and, therefore, for a say about 
the " say sarpint," as the Irish call him. 

The Sea Serpent has been before us now for nearly thirty 
years. It has been seen in every latitude, and of all shapes 
and sizes. Sometimes as long as the longest yarn ever 
spun by a man-o'-war's man ; sometimes as high as a purse- 
proud tradesman; at others its wriggle on the ocean was 
fearful, and its beard — like that of our New Englanders 
— doubly terrible, and what, with its length, and its height, 
its breadth, and its beard, this wonderful animal has puzzled 
and perplexed the learned and the unlearned. 



It was in the year 1817, that some u American " authorities 
reported that an animal of very singular appearance had 
been repeatedly seen in the Harbour of Gloucester, at Cape 
Anne, nearly thirty miles from Boston ; and Amos Story, of 
Gloucester, has deposed that he saw a strange marine animal, 
like a serpent, in the Harbour of Gloucester. It was noon 
when he first saw the animal, and it continued in sight for 
an hour and a half. Story was sitting on the shore, about 
twenty rods from the animal, whose head appeared shaped 
like the head of a sea-turtle, and was raised from ten to 

twelve inches above the surface of the water. At that 
distance it appeared larger than the head of any dog. From 
the back part of the head to the next part that was 
visible was from three to four feet. It moved very rapidly 
through the water — a mile in about three minutes. On this 
day, Story did not see more than ten or twelve feet of its 


body. Some days after this, he saw what he believed to be 
the same animal, which then lay perfectly still, extended on 
the water. He had a good telescope and continued looking 
at it for half-an-hour, and it remained still and perfectly 
visible. He did not, however, see its head nor tail. Its 
colour appeared a dark brown, and while the sun shone upon 
it the reflection was bright. Story thought its body was 
the size of a man's. 

Another ship-master, Solomon Allen deposed that on the 
12th, 13th, and 14th of August, 1817, he saw a strange 
marine animal, which he believed to be a Serpent, in the 
Harbour of Gloucester. This animal was between eighty 
and ninety feet in length, and about the size of a half-barrel 
— apparently having joints from the head to the tail. Allen 
was about one-hundred-and-fifty yards from it. The head 
was formed something like a rattlesnake, but nearly as large 
as that of a horse. Allen went round it in a boat several 
times. Its haunches appeared to be about ten inches from 
the surface of the water. At times its head was about 
ten feet in perpendicular height, and its mouth open. 

James Ellary of Gloucester, shipmaster, also deposed that 
he saw the Sea Serpent. He saw the upper part of its head, 
and about forty feet of its body. It appeared to have 
joints about the size of a two-gallon keg. W. H. Foster 
deposed to the animal being shaded in colour, and also to the 
particulars above-mentioned; and further said, that as he 
drew near to the place at which he was stationed to observe 
it, there arose from its head a prong or spear, about 
twelve inches in height and six inches in circumference, ter- 
minating in a point. Mathew Gaffrey, of the same place, 


also deposed that he saw this strange "marine/' and that 
its head appeared as large as a four-gallon keg, its body as 
large as a barrel, and its length at least forty feet. The 
top of its head was of a dark colour, the under part nearly 
white. He fired at it with his gun, and thought he must 
have hit it. It turned towards him immediately, and went 
directly under his boat, and made its appearance at about 
a hundred yards from the place where it dived. 

Several others deposed to these particulars, and Sewell 
Toppon, master of the schooner " Laura," said that he saw 
the " marine " on the eastern point of Cape Ann, being 
becalmed. Its head was the size of a /era-gallon cask, and 
that it left a great " wake" behind. Robert Bragg said 
he saw the " beast," with its head six or seven inches out of 
the water. He did not see its eyes, but when astern of the 
vessel about fifteen feet, it threw out its tongue, which 
was about two feet in length, and the end was like a 
harpoon. William Sowerby also deposed that he saw its 
tongue, and one eye, which appeared large and bright, 
like that of an ox. Its body moved up and down, and its 
head wagged from side to side. The colour of its tongue was 
a light brown. Elkanah Finney also deposed at length, and 
amongst other things, declared that it appeared to him like a 
long string of bungs. He saw thirty or forty of its " hunches" 
all in a line. The head appeared about six feet long. Its 
under -jaw had a white stripe. It appeared to be at least 150 
feet long. It often rose, and it appeared as if fishing for 
its food. It seemed to move at the rate of twenty miles 
an hour. Various other persons deposed to the same parti- 
culars — one that it had a beard, which flowed down its 


venerable chops like sea-weed. Another declared solemnly 
that it had a kind of " swivel eye," which followed the boat 
whichever way it turned. One said, that it suddenly rose up 
into the form of a " steeple/' and that upon firing at it, the 
ball must have passed through the inside of the " steeple " 
part of his body. One declared that he saw the end of its 
tail, which had a kind of tuft or fin, about four or five feet 
from its " cutter- cud/' and, at last, a large kind of serpent was 
actually caught at " Prospect," which was exhibited at Boston 
as the progeny of some " old serpent " — but this, on inspec- 
tion, proved to be a " whopping" conger eel. 

Since these "appearances" on the American side have taken 
place, we have had many accounts of the greatest of all 
the u marines." It has been frequently seen in the At- 
lantic, once or twice in the South Sea — sometimes computed 
at three hundred feet, sometimes at seventy — sometimes with 
a beard, sometimes without. The last account of it is 
taken from the log-book of the " Jesse Gleaner," in which 
it is depicted as resembling in the head, a " griffin ;" in the 
body, a hundred sugar hogs-heads linked together by a rope; 
and in the tail, as one of Peter Parley's best. Whether my 
young friends will ever hear or know more of it, will be 
left to the future concatenation of events. Perhaps "Old 
Charley" may pick it up in the Baltic, or Keet lay hold of 
it at the " fish ordinary " at Billingsgate. 

Since the above was written, we have received the following, 
concerning the capture of the " beast." It is in a letter from 


Charles Seabury, master of the whale ship " Monongatiela," 
of New Bedford, and states as follows, — On the morning 
of the 13th of January, when in latitude 3 deg. 10 min. S., 
and longitude 131 deg. 50 min. W., the man on the look-out 
cried "white water." I was aloft half-an-hour before I 
observed anything like white water — then I presumed it was 
a shoal of porpoises. I ordered the mate to keep both eyes 
open, and went down, it being my breakfast hour. Before I 
reached the deck, my attention was called to the sudden cry 
of Annetu Van j an, a Marquesan Islander. " Oh look ! me 
see! too much ! no whale! too big! me 'fraid V' The native 
continued to look with eagerness. I turned to leeward, and 
my eye rested on the strangest creature I had ever seen in the 
ocean. I knew it was not a whale. " It is a Sea Serpent !" — I 
exclaimed; "stand by the boats." When they had mustered, I 
said, "I do not order you to go into the boats — who will 
volunteer ?" Every American in the ship stepped out — we 
lowered — I told the boat-steerer, James Whittermore, of 
Vermont, to stand up, who, with calm intrepidity, laid hold of 
his harpoon; when I beckoned with my hand, quick as thought 
both his weapons were buried to the socket in the repulsive 
body before us ; the head and tail of the monster rushed to 
touch the wound; the frightfulness of the head filled the crew 
with terror ; he began to sound, and the line went out, in all, 
one thousand fathoms. At four a.m., on the 14th inst., sixteen 
hours after it went down, the line began to slack, and just 
before breakfast it rose; we lanced the body repeatedly with- 
out any signs of life ; at last it drew itself up, and we pulled 
away, and then witnessed the terrific dying struggles of the 
monster. The evolutions of the body were quick as lightning, 



like the revolving of a thousand enormous black wheels, and 
a sound was heard, so dead and unearthly, that a thrill of 
horror ran through our veins. The convulsive effort lasted 
fifteen minutes, when suddenly it ceased,, turned up, and lay 
still. Our prey was dead ! I took off my hat, when nine 
terrific cheers broke from the crew. It was a male, one 
hundred- and-three feet long, nineteen feet round the neck, 
twenty-five feet round the shoulders, and forty-nine feet 
round the largest part of the body. The head was long and 
flat, with ridges, the end of the tongue was like a heart, the 
back black, sides brown, under the belly yellow, with a white 
streak. The body was covered with blubber, and the oil was 
as clear as water, and burnt like spirits of turpentine. One 
of his lungs was three feet longer than the other. 

Sontcfljiug more about % Cjjiitcse. 

rpO maintain the laws of China, and 
impress the people with fear, a 
numerous standing army is kept up. 
There are at least, five-hundred- 
thousand — Tartar troops — such as we 
should term " regulars," —in this 
country. There are also about a 
million of what we should call "the 
militia." For courage thev are not 
very remarkable, but they have the 
word brave stitched upon the back of 
their jackets, and tlie word retreat on 
tlie front. They wear also a peculiar 
cap, as seen in the engraving, and 
carry a matchlock. Here is a picture 
of a Chinese " Brave." 

The "Tartar troops" are enrolled 

under eight banners, which are 

attached to certain lands or estates. 

The cavalry are not much better 

equipped than the infantry ; they have neither carbines nor 

pistols, but are armed exclusively with swords and sabres. 



The weapons of the foot consist of bows and arrows, pikes, 
matchlocks, swords, baskets, shields, and iron cannon. 

But the most famous of all the soldiers are, what we should 
term "life guards j" they are called H tigers of war," and are 



the members of the Imperial Guard. They are covered from 
head to foot with a striped dress of black and yellow, to 
resemble the tiger. The head of these "tigers" is also covered 
with a close cap, and two horns or ears stick up from each 
side. They carry a shield, with a sort of Gorgon face upon 
it, like that of the fabled Minerva, which is said to have 
turned all it looked upon into stone. 

q 2 



Besides these military gentlemen, the Eleuth Tartars now 
form a part of the military force of the Chinese, and are re- 
garded as the handsomest and finest-looking men of the 
Empire. They retain their national dress, as you see it in the 
picture. They are a numerous people, divided into various 
tribes, living in the north and west of the Chinese territory. 
They had, for ages, been at war with the Chinese, and a long 
while ago some of these tribes eventually gained a complete 
victory, and settled the family of one of their chiefs upon the 
throne — so that the present emperor is not a Chinese by des- 
cent, but a Tartar, and this is one of the causes of the " Great 



Rebellion" now raging in China, the object of which is to 
destroy idolatry, and to drive the Tartar race from the Empire. 
The naval force of the Chinese is verv numerous, but, 
compared with European ships, of little service. Their war 
vessels are little better than trade junks, one thousand of 
which would not have the least effect upon one of our frigates. 
The barges and boats of the Chinese are, however, more 
useful ; and the waterman is an important personage. The 
engraving is a representation of one. The boatmen have a 
peculiar song. One person repeats the sentences, which have 
a meaning, and the whole join in chorus " Hee-o-noto-hee-o," 
the import of which is, " Pull away, my boys, heartily." 
Near the head of the vessel or boat is suspended a gong. 


which serves to regulate the notions of the boatmen. 

* i 





In all the cities of China watchmen are regularly kept. 
The watch is set at nine o'clock, and remains till five in the 
morning. The watchman carries in his left hand a long 
bamboo tube, which he strikes with a short thick stick in 
his right as many blows as there may be half-hours elapsed 
since the watch was set. The sound of the instrument is 
loud,? but dull. Sometimes the bamboo, instead of being 
cylindrical, is shaped liked a fish, about two feet and a-half 
long, and six inches in diameter. Each watchman is also 
furnished with a paper lanthorn, on which is inscribed his name, 
and that of the division to which he belongs. 

The Chinese laws are contained in the canonical books, 
which constitute the laws and literature of the country. They 
have been compiled so as to lay down with great exactness 
the various descriptions of offences, with a suitable punish- 



merit for each. In China, the cane is the grand instrument 
of punishment ; and all China has been compared to a school, 
— kept in awe by the rod of the master. 

Every city of the first, second, or third rank, has its proper 
courts and judges, and when a person is charged with an 
offence, torture is used to extort confession. The ordinary 
one, which is very acute and painful, is a kind of engine in 
which the hands and feet of the culprit are enclosed ; and 
then, by means of a screw, compressed to such a degree that 
the wrists and ancle-bones are broken and flattened, and all 
the toes and fingers dislocated. Rebellion and treason are 
punished by cutting the criminal into ten thousand pieces — 
which is literally accomplished by the knife or sword. Murder 
is punished with death. For disobedience to parents, the 



punishment is very severe. The criminal is condemned to be 
cut into " ten thousand pieces/' and afterwards burnt. Theft 
is punished by the Bastinado. In this punishment, the 
offender lies with his face downwards, and the executioner, 
with a cudgel, beats him severely. After he has been thus 
soundly beaten, the offender arises, and, kneeling before the 
presiding magistrate, thanks him for his kind correc- 
tion. But briberv will soften the blows, or it is not 
unfrequent for a substitute to be allowed, and many a poor 
fellow, for the sake of a little money, will kneel down and 
receive the punishment. The Chinese have also laws 

and punishments relating to 

form, ceremony, and dress; the 

manner in which an inferior 

bows to a superior; the terms 

of the card -written to him, the 

mode in which it is to be folded, 

the ceremonial of visiting, are 

all fixed bv rules. Whether a 

Chinese sits down or rises, 

whether he receives company at 

home, or walks abroad, there is 

a rule fixed, and the cane is 

always at hand to punish its 

violation. The Mandarins are 

the magistrates in China, and 

here is a picture of one of them. 

His tunic is gray or violet color, 

his trousers vellow, embroidered 

with gold. The Mandarins are selected from all classes of the 



community, and their number is said to amount to nearly 
50,000. There are nine classes of Mandarins, who are dis- 
tinguished by the buttons in their caps. Sometimes the 
Emperor confers a high and extraordinary honour on Man- 
darins who have performed essential service to the state, 
namely — "the right of wearing two peacock's feathers in the 
cap, which is as great a mark of dignity as the " Garter " of 
a " Knight Companion of the Garter'" in England." 

There are, in China, booksellers who keep shops as in 
England, but the greater number of booksellers are hawkers, 
and one of these is represented in the engraving. The books 
are arranged on a stall, and boxes full of others stand beside 


The books of the vendor are usually covered with a kind of 
pasteboard of a green or yellow colour. Those kept in shops 
are generally bound in red brocade, adorned with flowers of 
gold and silver, and have their titles in gold letters, not on 
their backs, but on the exterior surface of the cover. Some 
works are splendidly illustrated, after the Chinese manner, 
by designs in colours, and others by rude but very graphic 

The paper which the Chinese use for printing, being ex- 
tremely thin, is printed only on one side. The sheets are so 
folded that the two open edges go to the back when they are 
stitched. Thus the Chinese books are cut in the back (not 
in the front like ours), and the sheets are then held together 
by a silk lace, or merely a strip of paper twisted between the 
fingers. The Chinese have a variety of books, and no nation 
in the world can boast of such a mass of historical annals. 
The people are amused with a variety of the vilest trash, and 
there are published in quick succession, dramas, poems, and 
tales, some serious and some comic, but none of any great 
merit. They have also plays, and strange representations of 
various kinds, but, for the most part, of a gross or whimsical 
nature. The Chinese are particularly fond of puppet shows, 
which they have brought to a great degree of perfection, with 
various automatons, like our "Punch and Judy." All ranks 
take delight in these amusements. 

I hope in my next Annual to give you some further insight 
into the manners and customs of this most interesting people. 


MA anb JHL 

" Jack and Jill 
Went up the hill, 
To fetch a pail of water : — 
Jack fell down 
And broke his crown, 
And Jill came tumbling after." 

WIDOW M'CARTHY rented four or five acres of 
land, in a rural part of the county of Cork, in Ire- 
land. She was a respectable, hard working, cleanly, honest, 
upright woman; and the landlord, seeing that she was likely 
to become quite as good a tenant as any one could be, and 
indeed, far better than most persons in her neighbourhood, 
allowed her to keep the little farm after her husband's 
death. It was well in him to do so, for she managed the 
land properly, paid her rent, and every other debt, with 
punctuality and honour. The good widow had two daughters, 
the stay and comfort of her old age, the pride of the village, 
the pattern of all good and thrifty qualities to the neigh- 
bours. Their names were Betsey and Jill. They were 
young, good-looking, cheerful and industrious. Under their 
management the cottage became cleanly, neat and comfort- 


able. The pigs and poultry were kept out of trie house, iu 
their proper places. The floors were regularly swept and 
scoured; the table, though it Avas only a deal table, was 
always so white, and clean, and sweet-looking, that positively 
it looked quite pretty. A neat Dutch clock stood over the 
dresser, among the shining crockery-ware ; and click ! click ! 
click ! it went, so cheerfully, that even the old hoary figure 
of Time with a scythe, which was painted on it, looked 
benignant and happy, as if well satisfied with his continual 
harvest of holy and profitable hours. Betsey, the elder of 
the two girls, was unfortunately lame, from an accident she 
had received in her babyhood. She could not, therefore, be 
so active as her sister, but she made up for it in the activity 
of her mind. She was wise and thoughtful, and her mother 
relied upon her much for advice and sympathy in times of 
difficulty. Jill, the younger, was the pride and joy of the 
neighbourhood. She was here, there, and everywhere, 
wherever there was work to be done. She milked the cow ; 
she baked the bread, she could mend the thatch, and weed 
the garden. And then she had such a pretty face, such a 
neat little figure; her hair was always so clean and so nicely 
arranged. Many lads of the village were in love with her, 
and one among them was Jack Sullivan, the so~i of their 
nearest neighbour. He had known her for a great many 
years, without caring more about her than he did about other 
young maidens; but one day as he was passing the widow's 
front garden, he saw Betsey leaning over the half-door of the 
cottage, and Jill mounted on a ladder, mending the thatch of 
the roof. There was a gentle breeze stirring, and it played 
and whispered about her little form very lovingly. The small 



check apron round her pretty waist, waved and fluttered 
about, and curled round behind, as %V^ 

if playing at hide-and seek with the ijj^K^ 
morning breeze, and now and then ^\\T^% 
a wavy movement of the neat stuff ^4*4li^«' 
<rown showed her well-turned ancles and 
little feet. The sunlight played upon her 
shining hair; her face was so rosy and 
full of smiles ; her hands moved so nimbly 
at her work, and all the curves of her 
voung figure were so graceful, that Jack 
stood still a long time to look at her. 
Prom that hour he fell in love. Jack him- 
self was a good-looking fellow, very good- 
looking indeed. He had, besides, free, 
frank, good-natured ways, and was a great 
favourite in the village for his generosity, 
and his gay and lively manners. He could 
play the fiddle a little, sing a song 
with spirit, and dance as gaily as if all the blood within 
him were a current of joy. He became now a frequent 
visitor at the widow's cottage. What he came for was soon 
plain enough to the mother and to Betsey, and indeed to any 
one that observed; but Jill — sly, blushing, little Jill — pre- 
tended not to Imow anything about it. One day, however, she 
knew all about it, because Jack told her; and oh ! to see the 
little maiden then ! It was well there was nobody by, — she 
could not have borne it. She lifted up that little apron of 
hers, and covered her pretty face with it, burning with 
blushes. Jack had put such an important question to her, 


that it was quite impossible she could answer it at once 
without consulting her mother ; but the blushing brow, the 
sparkling eyes, the trembling little hand, were almost answer 
enough for him. 

The mother shook her head when she heard of what had 
passed between Jack and her daughter. She loved him for 
his generosity and liveliness, but she knew well his defects of 
character. Jack was not a thrifty fellow. He loved his 
pleasures better than his business. His cottage and garden 
were both in sad disorder. His fences, too, were broken 
down ; the weeds grew in his fields ; and, altogether, his 
affairs were in anything but a prosperous condition. Of 
course, the good mother could not think of such a suitor to 
her thrifty little daughter, until he altered his habits and 
gave some promise of becoming a steady and industrious 
man. Jack was told this — and his conscience, besides, whis- 
pered to him that he had been careless and indolent, and that 
it'was nothing more than right that Jill's little hand should 
be denied him till he had shown some proofs of care and 
frugality. But with such a reward to encourage him and 
urge him on, he felt a new life at his heart ; he made a 
manful beginning of improvement, and probably would have 
gone successfully on, but for an accident which brought 
sorrow to both families, and for a time disabled Jack alto- 
gether. There had been long drought in the summer; a drop 
of rain had not fallen for a fortnight ; the ponds in the neigh- 
bourhood were dried up, and the wells gave but a very scanty 
supply. The best of these was at some distance from the 
village at the top of a hill, with a well-worn path on one 
side, but covered with grass and underwood on all the others. 


One day, Jill, wanting water for her cows and for household 
purposes, proposed to go up the hill to fetch some. Jack 
readily offered to help her. He obtained a donkey cart, and 
filled it with buckets, and drove to the foot of the hill, with 
Jill iu company. They went up together, Jack holding her 
by the hand and helping her on. When they had reached 
the top and filled their pails, he proposed to go down the 
other side of the hill, the distance being a little shorter. It 
was steeper and more slippery it was true, but still he thought 
he could venture. He went first, with a full pail in his hand, 
and Jill followed behind him. They had not gone more than 
half-way down when Jack's feet began to slide over the 
smooth, steep ground, and down he fell on his side, and rolled , 
over and over. Poor Jill screamed, leaned forward, and, in 
her turn, fell and rolled down the hill behind Jack. On they 
went, over and over down the hill, like a couple of cricket- 
balls, and nothing could stop them till they came to the 
bottom. The mere rolling down hill would not perhaps have 
have done them any great harm, for the ground at that part 
was soft and grassy ; but the worst of it was that Jill's pail — 
when it fell from her hand — struck Jack's head, and it went 
bump ! bump ! all the way down-hill close to him, hitting 
him now and then on the ribs rather roughly. They were 
both picked up at the foot of the hill, and placed, carefully, 
side by side in a cart, with a truss of straw strewn over it to 
relieve the jolting. It was soon evident that Jill, though a 
good deal frightened, was not much hurt ; but Jack's fall was 
somewhat serious. His head was bleeding, and, when the 
Doctor examined him, he said, that two of his ribs were 
broken. A day or two's nursing brought Jill round again, 


for there was nothing seriously the matter with her; but 
Jack's illness kept him to his bed some weeks. 

Stars shine in the night, and so love burns with peculiar 
fervour in the hours of affliction and sorrow. Jill and her 
mother waited upon their patient with tenderest care. His 
food and his medicine were given to him by their gentle 
hands; he sank into slumber at night with the echoes of their 
prayers in his ears ; and when he awoke in the morning, 
the first eye-beams that met his own were theirs. The love 
in his heart strengthened, and grew under such influences. 
He made all sorts of generous resolves as to what he would 
do when he got well — how hard he would Avork ! how 
prudent and careful he would be ! Nothing was too hard to 
do or to endure, to gain such a wife as Jill. 

With such excellent nursing, Jack recovered in due time, 
and came out of his illness quite well and cheerful, One 
evening, after his recovery, he was seated in the widow's 
kitchen, talking to Jill and Betsey, while they arranged their 
garden-pots of flowers in the window, when the door opened, 
-and Father M'Callagh, the parish priest, entered the room, 
holding a letter in his hand. 

"Jack 1 " said the Father, " I have just called upon you; 
but not finding you at home, I guessed very naturally that 
you were here. While I was standing at your doorway, the 
village postman came with this letter; and as I knew pretty 
well Avhere a*ou were, I offered to deliver it to A r ou. Do not 
stand upon am r ceremom r with me, but read vour letter at 
once, while Mrs. M'Carthy, Betsey, and I, have a little quiet 
talk together." 

Jack opened the letter, and read it aloud to Jill. It was 


from a cousin of his, who had gone to America about ten 
years ago. He was now a small but substantial and thriving 
farmer in one of the Western States; and, as he wanted 
help in his farm, he had written to Jack, offering him a free 
passage out and good wages. The letter stated that the 
labour required would be constant and steady — now and 
then, perhaps, severe — but that the reward would be sweet 
and sure. It also enclosed an order, on an Irish Bank, for a 
small sum of money. 

Jack looked at the maiden in silence. There were tears in 
her eyes. Then the letter was handed to Betsey and the 
mother, and they both read it ; a solemn stillness came over 
the spirits of the family. 

"What is to be done?" said Jack. 

" Suppose we ask Father M'Callagh to advise us," said 

The letter was instantly put into the good man's hand. 
He looked over it, and then advancing to where Jack and 
Jill sat, he took the little hand of the maiden in one of his 
own, and laid the other in a friendly manner on Jack's 

" My advice," said he, in a firm and cheerful voice, " is — 
Go ! Go ! by all means." 

The young people looked up with distressed countenances, 
but spoke not a word. 

" Jack, my friend ! " said the old man, cheerfully, " you 
are at heart a good fellow ; but you have some serious faults, 
which you are now striving bravely to amend. You have 
made a capital beginning, but as yet it is only a beginning. 
When we awaken to a sense of duty, we ought to accept 



opportunities which put our virtue to the proof. Inward 
resolutions must become outward life. Virtuous sentiments 
must speak out in virtuous habits ; practice must prove theory. 
Now, Jack, my boy ! shew a brave spirit. Accept this trial. 
Go to America ! work ! be thrifty ! Pat by what you can 
reasonably spare; and in about a twelvemonth, perhaps, 
you will be able to send for little Jill and make her your 

Jack's countenance brightened, and so did Jill's a little, 
though her tears continued falling ; but it was now the 
widow's turn to be sorrowful. The thought of her daughter's 
going away to marry in a foreign land was hard to bear ; but 
Father M'Callagh comforted her. She came to see that the 
arrangement was natural and Avise ; and, after some little 
hesitation, she gave her consent. 

On the following Sunday, the good old Father preached in 
the village chapel from this text :— " If I take the wings of 
the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 
even there shall Th}>- hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall 
hold me.'' He attempted to she ( v, that wherever we go, in 
obedience to the voice of duty — whether upon burning sands 
or freezing snows — whether in the flowery meadows or on the 
stormy seas — the love, and mercy, and tenderness of heaven 
would hover over us still, making our happiness fruitful, and 
turning our sorrows into joy. It was a very comforting 
sermon for the family ; and when the evening of that Sab- 
bath came, it was one of the sweetest and calmest they had 
ever enjoyed. The stars that glittered in the skies seemed 
like the eyes of angels looking down upon them ; and the 
cool breeze that touched their cheek and hair as it swept by, 


was like the kiss of an invisible spirit, stooping down from a 
higher world. 

Time flew rapidly on, and the day for parting came. Jill 
went with her lover to the ship. She saw it leave the quay at 
Cork ; she watched it from the sea-shore, as with outspread 
sails it glided on and on. She lingered on the beach till the 
shadows of evening fell, and the vessel containing her dearest 
friend faded away like a speck on the horizon. She wept a 
little — it was natural, she could not help it ; but the tears 
were not altogether bitter. The night wind swept over the 
sea with a solemn sound ; the waves broke upon the shore, 
and to the pious listener they seemed to say — " Fear not ! we 
roll in the hollow of His hand." 

Among the old lovers of little Jill was one Laurence Do- 
heney, the village postmaster's son. She had never given him 
the slightest encouragement ; but now that Jack had gone to 
America, he thought there was a chance for him, if he chose 
to persevere; and persevere he did, much to Jill's annoyance. 
He would sit upon the garden railings, playing a few notes on 
an old cracked fiddle he had borrowed, and sing a rude verse 
of a song which some one had written for him : — 


" My pretty Jill ! 
Have you I will ! 
I'll be your constant lover. 
When one's away, 
The wise would say, 
' Take comfort in another.' " 



Such a rude verse as this was, of course, not at all likely to 
please so faithful a girl as Jill. It deeply offended her. She 
turned a deaf ear and a severe countenance to all that he 
had to sav, and his foolish wooing was all in vain. Seeing 
that he could not succeed at all, and that he did not get even 
so much as a smile, his love (if, indeed, it ever was love) 
soured into vexation and anger. He took to teazing her 
about her tumble down-hill, and made rade jests about the 
droll figure she must have cut, when she came rolling over 
and over, like a snow-ball, with Jack before her. He even 
went so far as to bring a bell, one day, and ring it like a 
town-crier three times, while he cried out — (l O yes ! Lost, 
a pair of young lady's garters, while tumbling down hill. 
Whoever will bring the same to Miss Jill M'Carthy, will 
receive one shilling reward/' This foolish and vexatious 
nonsense went on for some time. Jill took but little notice 
of it ; and she hoped that, ere long, Laurence himself would 
grow tired of his own unkinduess and folly. 

Meanwhile time flew on rapidly. The vessel which had 
taken Jack out to America returned to Cork ; but, strange 
to say, no letter had yet been received by Jill. A sailor on 
board the ship, who had some relations in the village, reported 
that he had seen Jack leave the ship ou her arrival, safe and 
sound, but that since that time he had neither heard nor 
seen anything of him. This information was satisfactory, as 
far as it went ; but, of course, it was not enough, nor any- 
thing like enough, for a loving heart like Jill's. It was 
strange she did not hear from him ! "What could be the 
matter? Five months — six months — seven months passed 
away, but no letter. Poor Jill ! she went into secret places, 


and wept bitterly ; she pined, lost her appetite, and grew 
pale. Her mother and sister comforted her to the best of 
their power ; but her heart was deeply wounded, and it would 
not heal. 

One day, when Father M'Callagh was visiting the cottage, 
and the deep grief and disappointment of poor Jill was being 
talked over, he suddenly fell into a deep silence, as if some 
thought had suddenly struck him. Presently, tnrning to the 
chair where Jill sat, he spoke to her, — 

" My child ! T have heard that Laurence Doheney, the 
postmaster's son, has been troublesome to you since Jack'* 
departure, and that he has tried to get himself accepted as 
your suitor." 

"Yes, Father, he has annoyed me very much. Of course, 
I have had nothing to say to Mm ; and now I hope he will 
have nothing to say to me." 

" Humph !" said the old Father. Then, after a long pause, 
he continued, " Jill, my child, I daresay you know when the 
next mail is due from America ?" 

" Yes," she replied, drawing out a slip of newspaper from 
her pocket ; " I study such things now. Here it is ! To- 
morrow 1" 

" That is at Cork, I suppose ? " 


" Then, the day after to-morrow the letters ought to be 
delivered in the village, if there be any. My child, you will 
probably see me on that day. Meanwhile, be patient and 
hopeful. I dare be sworn Jack is constant and true. I 

much fear that others ." And here his countenance 

grew grave and sorrowful ; but he checked himself, looked 


smilingly again, and bidding them all a gentle adieu, went 
Lis way. 

On the day appointed for his again visiting the cottage, 
Father M'Callagh went into the post-office of the village. 
Holding out his hand to the postmaster, lie began to inquire, 
in a friendly way, after his health and that of his family, and 
begged permission to be seated there a short time, as he was 

" As long as you please, Father — none more welcome ! " 

And then they began chatting together, the two old men, 
of the times when they were young — of men and things — of 
joys and sorrows long since past away. Laurence was in 
the room. 

Presently, a horn was heard. 

" Here comes the mail from Cork, father ! " said Laurence, 
starting up, and taking in the bag at the doorway. 

" Very well," said his father, ' ' untie the bag, and go on 
sorting. I will be ready presently." 

Father M'Callagh shifted his chair a little, so as to com- 
mand a good view of the movements of Laurence, while 
seeming not to notice him. He entered into conversation 
again with the elder Doheney. 

It was but a small packet of letters ; and Laurence, who 
had long been used to help his father in such matters, very 
quickly divided them into their proper parcels. But there 
was one letter which, instead of putting on the table with 
the others, he snapped up with a rapid movement, and put 
into the side-pocket of his jacket. 


But, quick as this was done, the watchful eye of Father 
M'Callagh saw it. He rose from his seat, went up to 
Laurence, laid his hand upon his shoulder, and, with a solemn 
voice and manner, said : — 

" Laurence ! Laurence ! I pity you. I fear you have done 
a very wicked thing. I would lead you back to honour by 
the gentle means of mercy. Repent now, while there is time 
to do it, without public shame, or by-and-bye Justice may 
seize you with a rough hand. Give me, instantly, the letter 
that you have just concealed." Laurence, pale and trem- 
bling, produced the letter. It was addressed to Jill M'Carthy. 

" I have no doubt," said the priest, clutching the letter, 
that you have several others addressed to her in your posses- 
sion. Give them all up I" 

Laurence unlocked a little drawer of his own in a corner of 
the office, and, with downcast eyes, put into the old Father's 
hands five or six letters addressed to Jill. The seals had not 
in any instance been broken. 

" Oh, Laurence ! Laurence \" said the old Father, with 
emotion, (( is it needful for me to say, how mean and paltry, 
how malicious, how unkind, how cruel is such conduct 
towards any one ? But towards such a girl as Jill ! — Oh, 
Laurence ! Come ! Come ! I see the tears of shame and 
sorrow in your eyes. You do feel it." 

Yes ! Laurence did feel it. He buried his face in his 
hands and wept. Foolish habits and evil companionship had 
done him much harm, but they had not destroyed all good. 
Here and there, in his neglected nature, were some spots 
where the beautiful still grew, like patches of verdure in a 
desert of sand. Now, the good within him awoke and stirred 


— the evil sank into silence and slumbered. Shame and 
sorrow fell upon his spirit, as summer rain upon withering 
flowers, and the true and the beautiful revived. 

Father M'Callagh promised the distressed father and the 
repentant son that he would not speak of this discovery to 
any one in the world but Jill. Now that a gracious repent- 
ance had begun its work, they need not fear anything harsh 
or indelicate from those who knew the circumstances. Then, 
with a few words of solace and encouragement, the good old 
Priest shook hands with both father and son, and went away. 

In a few minutes he arrived at the widow's cottage. He 
asked to speak with Jill alone, and then he told her of the 
discovery he had just made ; he spoke, too, of the sincere 
penitence of Laurence, and asked her to forgive him. Then, 
putting all the letters into her hands, he bade her adieu, and 
left her to go up into her little bed-chamber, and read over 
their happy and loving contents, with beating heart and 
tearful eyes. 

One day, about a month after this incident, Jill was sitting 
at the window working, when Laurence opened the garden- 
gate, and came forward with a letter in his hand. It had 
just arrived, and he had requested his father to let him be 
the bearer of it. It was the first time he had ventured to 
shew himself to Jill since the affair of his dishonour towards 
her. She came forward into the garden to meet him, and 
took the letter from his hand. He blushed, and trembled 
a little as he delivered it to her ; with a faltering voice, he 
asked if Father M'Callagh had told her how very sorry he 
was that 

" Yes — yes, Laurence ! he told me all about it ! " said Jill, 


interrupting him. " I know you are sorry, and that you 
would never do so again to any one." 

" Never ! never ! " said Laurence, with great emphasis. 
"Believe me — never ! " 

" Of course, you would not ! therefore we will say no more 
about it. Now, Laurence, please let me go and read my 
letter. Good bye ! " and she held out her hand so prettily, 
and pressed it into his so gently, yet so warmly, and looked 
into his face with so much simplicity and sweetness, that 
Laurence felt the tears starting to his eyes. These new 
touches of tenderness and mercy strengthened his virtue, and 
made his heart steady in the beautiful change upon which he 
had resolved. 

Jill, as soon as she got to her room, opened the letter. Of 
course, it was from Jack. It contained an order for £12 on 
an Irish Bank, and a very earnest eutreaty that she would 
come to America without delay, and be his wife. It stated 
that he was now bailiff and manager of a good farm, which 
his cousin had just bought — that he had saved a little money, 
and had now a comfortable home, which only wanted Jill to 
make it delightful. The £12 enclosed were for the expenses 
of her passage out. 

Such a letter as this could not be received but with mixed 
feelings. There was joy in the prospect, but it could not be 
reached without much present pain. There was a blessed 
meeting to look forward to, but there was also a sorrowful 
separation to endure. So it is ! Heaven's beautiful affections 
are the means of dividing families, as well as of drawing them 
together. And so it will be, till all are " gathered together 
into one fold." 



And now the hours, as they rolled on, brought near the 
time of another parting — parting, the lot, sooner or later, of 
all meeting things in this world below. Many of the villagers 
went as far as Cork, to see the last of their dear little friend ; 
and when the vessel left the harbour, amidst the tears and 
blessings of mother, and sister, and friends, several of them 
(Laurence and his father among the number) clustered on the 
sea- shore, and watched it, as it glided away with her whom 
they loved on board. 

Sail gallantly, proud ship ! Waft her gently on, ye winds ! 
Roll, roll ye murmuring waters ! Rejoice, ye waves, and 
smile! for Love, the most beautiful of all things, is now 
upon the sea ! 

t ' ////■'//// 

//// // 

'//// ft , //,;/'//• 

Kjjt.&to^itob ;• or, u Jftarfxil (Knonmttr 
fcitj) it S^ark. 

young readers will recollect, 
that in my last volume I 
afforded them some curious 
particulars regarding the 
" shark family;" I am now 
about to relate to them a 
" story " concerning one, 
ich I know to be true. It was 
the year, 1835, that the fine 
diaman, the "Bajah," had 
2ssed the line, and steed on her 
ay to Madras. There were, en 
id of her, two brothers, named 
;rave ; cne had the baptismal 
^nation of "Edwin/' and the 
other's name was "Arthur." They 
were twin brothers, and Arthur was only a few minutes older 
than Edwin. 

260 THE TWO middies; or a 

Both these boys had been brought up together — they had 
the same nurse, the same tutor, the same education, the same 
pocket-money. They were the same in appearance, in coun- 
tenance, in stature, and so like that one was often mistaken 
for the other. 

They were, however, somewhat different in character and 
disposition. Edwin was gentle and retiring, Arthur was bold 
and resolute. Edwin was fond of books and the pen, and of 
the pencil. Arthur delighted in riding, fishing, shooting, and 
boating. Arthur wished to go to sea. Edwin wanted to be 
a clergyman. 

At last the time came for each to make a choice of a pro- 
fession. Arthur was determined to be a sailor, and his father 
took the requisite means to get him entered as a "middy" on 
board the " Rajah," and everything was soon settled, and the 
little boy appeared, dressed in his " uniform," to the great 
joy of all his brothers and sisters, except Edwin, who looked 
upon it as a sign that he was now to lose the society of his 
beloved brother for a long time — perhaps for ever. 

This was more than he could endure, and he therefore im- 
plored his father, with tears in his eyes, to get him a '•' berth " 
in the same ship, and offered to give up his idea of becoming 
a clergyman, and to share all the perils of the deep, that he 
might not lose the companionship of his brother. 

I need not say how pure and holy fraternal affection is ; 
nor how pleasing it is in the sight of Him who would have 
all men to be Brothers. But I may say, that the love that 
existed between Edwin and Arthur has never been excelled 
in my experience. 

The ship " Rajah " pursued her way with a fair wind and 


a calm sea, and as she neared the point of her destination 
the weather became hotter and hotter. At last, the India- 
man lay becalmed, the sun darting down its heat so furiously 
as to make the boards of the deck shrink and crack. All the 
passengers were in a " melting mood/' and the crew of the 
ship in little better than a fry. The sun was indeed so hot 
that you might almost cook a beef-steak on the flat of the 

The most rational thing to do — when a person is hot — is to 
devise some means of getting one's-self cool. And among the 
various devices commonly practised to produce this effect, 
that of bathing is said to be a very good one. 

Many, therefore were the " bathers " that dropped over the 
ship's sides to take a " salt-water cure" for heat, and among 
the bathers was Edwin. A sail had been let down with a large 
" bulge" in it from the main and mizen-yard, and on this, 
which had about the depth of six feet of water in its lowest 
part, the young middies and some of the passengers found a 
very pleasant bath. 

Several persons had taken their ablutions and came on 
deck again. But Edwin lingered about in company with 
another middy, amusing himself with various frolics in the 
water, when all at once the head of an enormous shark ap- 
peared for a moment at the margin of the extended sail. 
The monster turned up its mouth, shewed its treble row of 
saw-like teeth, and descended rapidly. Both the youths gave 
a fearful shriek, and the one nearest to the ship's-side laid 
hold of a " dangling rope," and leaped into the vessel. Not 
so with Edwin. This poor youth seemed suddenly paralyzed 
with fear. In a few seconds the shark appeared again, and, 



making a lurch, threw himself over one part of the sail, and 
nearly swept the unfortunate Edwin into the sea. The enor- 
mous weight of the creature so slackened the ropes that held 
the sail on one side that it tilted, and left Edwin clinging to 
the other side in great terror, not knowing what would come 

Arthur was a witness of this dreadful state of things, and 
Edwin instinctively uttered his brother's name. In a mo- 


ment, with liis dirk-knife unsheathed in his hand, Arthur was 
by the side of Edwin. The soft swell of the sea gave a lurch 
to the ship, and, as the sail dipped deeper into the sea, the 
horrid creature made a movement towards the lads, turned 
his mouth upwards, and gave a snap — and so close was his 
monstrous jaw to the boys, that the rope to which they clung 
was cut in two, and the monster darted down with a mouth- 
ful of sail and rope in his capacious jaws. 

The sailors on board were endeavouring, with all their 
might, to haul the boys into the ship ; but before this could 
be done the shark made another plunge above the edge of the 
sail, close to Edwin, who instinctively threw himself more 
into the water at this moment. Arthur made a spring — 
buried his long knife up to the hilt, close to the animal's jaw, 
and, quickly withdrawing it, gave him a like " dig" in his 
throat, and the blood gushed out, making the sea and sail 
quite red. " Bravo — bravo !" said the sailors on board, " give 
it him again, middy." Before, however, Arthur had the oppor- 
tunity of so doing the shark drew off, and was seen savagely 
frisking about at a few yards from the side. Shortly after he 
made another attempt, and Arthur made a bold lurch at 
him ; but, in doing this, he over-reached himself and fell 
into the sea. In an instant the shark turned upon him, but 
while it was in the act of throwing up its teeth, Arthur 
dexterously dived, and, rising beneath the monster, sent his 
knife into its most vital part. 

Feeling the wound, the creature twisted downwards, while 
Arthur rose to the surface — one mass of blood. The shark 
rose, too, but evidently weaker, and before he could make 
another attack Arthur dealt another blow at him, amid the 



cheers of the spectators. The shark endeavoured to dive but 
was unable : made two or three convulsive twistings, and then 
turned and floated, belly upwards. 

As soon as the shark gave signs of being among the defunct, 
Arthur sprang to his brother, and clasping him affectionately 
round the neck, held on by the remnant of the sail till both 
were drawn on board, amid the plaudits of the crew and 

Such, young friends, is the story of the Shark and the 
Middies ; and I hope you will be so far instructed by it as to 
be ready, at all times, to venture your life to save that of a 
brother. You may not be called upon to do it by fighting 
with sharks of the sea; but there are "land sharks" worse 
than sea sharks, in the various business matters of this 
world, which it may be necessary for you to combat to save a 
brother's life, or, what is equally precious, his integrity or 
his honour.